


i'll keep walking toward the sound of your voice

by MelikaElena



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/M, M/M, Modern AU, Slow Burn, Soulmate AU, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, like roasting-a-marshmallow-so-it's-evenly-golden-brown-on-all-sides slow burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-10
Updated: 2016-10-14
Packaged: 2018-08-20 14:53:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 26,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8253115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MelikaElena/pseuds/MelikaElena
Summary: “Nathan,” Miller said suddenly. If this was the only time he spoke to his Soulmate in his entire life, he wanted him to know his first name. For some reason, this was deathly important to Miller. “My first name-- it’s Nathan. Nate.”“Nate,” Monty repeated softly, and Miller had to close his eyes. His name on Monty’s lips sounded like a prayer. A wish. “Don’t worry about me, Nate. I’ll be okay.”He sounded so alone, and Miller couldn’t stand it. But what could he do? Soulmate or not, his hands were tied. He was with someone else.“I--” Irrationally, Miller felt his throat close up. “I’m glad we met, Monty.”“Me, too,” Monty said. “Goodbye.”Don’t go, Miller’s body nearly seized with longing. Don’t ever leave.“Goodbye,” Miller said. Sometimes we defy Fate with a choice; sometimes Fate doesn't give a damn about what we choose. Modern, Soulmates AU





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jennycaakes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jennycaakes/gifts).



> Jenn requested, for her birthday, a Minty Soulmate fic, generously giving me several different soulmate prompts to help get me started. 
> 
> Jenn's birthday was in May. It is currently October. 
> 
> So! Besides the fact that I am, in fact, The Worst, and that I am apparently incapable of following the KISS (Keep It Simple, Stupid) rule, I'm actually very proud of this work. It was, for the most part, a joy to write, and I hope it's a joy to read.

 

> _“_ _You are in an ordinary suburban bedroom with bunk beds, a bookshelf,_
> 
> _two wooden desks and chairs. You are lying on your back, on the top_
> 
> _bunk, very close to the textured ceiling, staring straight at it in fact, and_
> 
> _the room is still dark except for a wedge of powdery light that spills in_
> 
> _from the adjoining bathroom. The bathroom is covered in mint green_
> 
> _tile and someone is in there, singing very softly. Is he singing to you?_
> 
> _For you? … You cannot make out all the words, but you’re_
> 
> _sure he knows you’re in there, and he’s singing to you, even though you_
> 
> _don’t know who he is_ _.” -- Richard Siken,_ **_You Are Jeff | Crush_ **

 

Miller couldn’t stop looking at the man sitting by the window.

 

He didn’t mean to—and normally, when it came to strangers, Miller couldn’t care less. It took him a while to warm up to other people as it was, so noticing, let alone staring, at a stranger took him completely by surprise.

 

He wasn’t an artist, but there was something about the man that made Miller’s fingers itch as he stared towards the table in the corner, where the stranger’s dark, shaggy head was bent over a notebook. The glow from the lamps on the tables shaded his sharp features like the Grand Canyon at sunrise, a play on sunlight and shadow. Miller’s eyes followed the lines of the man’s neck where the two top buttons of his shirt were undone, past where the sleeves were rolled up, and then down to his slim hands and long, tapered fingers.

 

He was bare of a Soulmate Mark, seemingly unclaimed, although that didn’t mean much: they could have been like a vine, climbing up the spine of his lithe back; or like a jealous lover, wrapping around one of his thighs; or even starting, as Rilke once called it, at that dark center of a man, spreading out like a warm glow, over his hipbones and like a blossoming flower over his chest.

 

The man in the corner looked up and, to Miller’s surprise, he seemed _familiar_ , yet Miller couldn’t quite place him. They could’ve gone to the same college, Miller thinks, but he must’ve been younger, because although the man had cheekbones that looked like they could cut steel, there was an air about him that seemed youthful.

 

Not that Miller would classify himself as some jaded old cynic, but lately he felt restless.

 

Miller looked down at his arms, the tender inside of his right wrist. At birth, like everyone else, he was born with a Mark somewhere on his body, that would only grow and spread once he met his his Soulmate. His Mark, a sharp crescent moon, had never grown.

 

Not that it mattered. Miller shook his head. He had a boyfriend, a very loving, loyal, boyfriend named Bryan, who he adored. He needed to remember that, no matter how intriguing the stranger was.

 

“Hey,” Bellamy said, stepping into Miller’s line of vision, putting down two pints of beer. “Sorry that took so long. It’s slammed up there.”

 

“No worries,” Miller responded, fighting off a scowl. It wasn’t Bellamy’s fault, after all, but Miller thought of the Mark that spread like a tree on Bellamy’s back, the designs matching, to a tee, the one’s that ran down Clarke Griffin’s side. Bellamy was lucky; he found his Soulmate several years earlier, and while they had a rocky start, once he and Clarke stopped fighting they were each other’s greatest ally, their most loyal partner. Miller’d seen soulmates before, but none like them.

 

The thing was-- what he and Bryan had was good. Great, even. They had talked about Soulmates when they first got together, as many couples did: what would happen if either of them found their Soulmate. Many people opted to break-up immediately, no strings attached, no hesitation. Some fought like hell to hold onto the other, with varying levels of success. Miller and Bryan had a talk like the former: they would have fun for now, let things happen naturally, but if either person’s Soulmate appeared, that was it. No hard feelings.

 

They had that talk when they were twenty-one. That was four years ago.

 

Miller tried to squash that feeling rising up in his chest, something that was either anticipation or heartburn, or a mixture of the two.

 

Bellamy peered at Miller. “You okay?” He asked. “You look--”

 

Miller took a swig of beer to buy himself some time. “I’m fine,” he said, shortly. “Tired. You know how it is.”

 

“Yeah,” Bellamy said after a pause. They were both in the process of becoming college professors, and it was beyond stressful, but-- Damn. He didn’t believe him. “But, listen--”

 

He was cut off, but Miller’s relief was short-lived when he discovered why. “Bellamy?”

 

Miller didn’t turn around, and although he had never heard that voice in his entire life, he knew _exactly_ to whom it belonged. The hair on the back of his neck stood on end, as though being gently pulled.

 

“Monty!” Bellamy laughed, grin bright. “Monty Green?”

 

“That’s me.” Monty moved around so that he was in Miller’s peripheral, and he looked, to Miller’s chagrin, completely unfazed by Miller’s presence. “How are you, man?”

 

“Good!” Bellamy said. They chatted for a couple minutes-- apparently Monty was only in town for the weekend, living somewhere else that Miller didn’t quite catch. Then, Bellamy remembered him. “Hey, this is my best friend, Miller. Miller, this is Monty Green. He went to college with Clarke and me.” There went his theory about meeting Monty in college; while Miller had grown up with Clarke, they had gone to different colleges, and had only re-connected by chance when Bellamy and Miller ended up in the same post-grad program.  

 

“Hi,” Miller said, trying to stay firmly cordial as opposed to brusque, as he tended to be when he got nervous. He wiped his right hand, wet with condensation from the beer, on his jeans before holding it out for Monty to shake. “Nice to meet you.”

 

Was it his imagination, or did Monty hesitate for a brief split-second before sliding his hand-- the very same one that Miller admired earlier-- into his?

 

There was no spark, no electricity that danced up on and down their forearms; but there was a warmth, a sureness, an immediate and innate knowledge of Monty’s hands-- that Miller had always known about the scar on the knuckle of Monty’s thumb or the exact width and texture of Monty’s ring on his pinky.

 

He looked into Monty’s eyes and was surprised to see that the same emotion that he felt was mirrored there--

 

Fear.

 

* * *

 

“What was with you tonight?” was the first thing out of Bellamy’s mouth as he and Miller left the bar. They were there a couple more hours as Bellamy and Monty caught up and Miller listened in relative silence-- the latter of which was nothing new, but after being Miller’s best friend for a few years now, Bellamy could tell when Miller was brooding.

 

“Leave it alone.”

 

Sometimes, Bellamy did, but not tonight. “No, stop,” he said, putting his hand on Miller’s arm, who flinched back. Bellamy stilled completely. “Miller?” He said lowly.

 

Miller paused, too, deciding, before moving again in a flurry of motion. Snarling, he unbuttoned the right sleeve of the his shirt and viciously rolled it up to his elbow.

 

He could hear the sharp intake of Bellamy’s breath, but waited a beat before lifting his eyes up. “Happy now?” He spat, as he watched Bellamy take in what Miller only suspected was beneath but hadn’t yet closely examined himself:

 

A pattern of leaves and vines encircling his wrist, his Mark’s origins, and then spreading, twisting up his forearm and disappearing under the shirt. His dark skin was tender, although the Mark itself didn’t hurt. The design was made up of tiny, indecipherable words and they were all a deep, emerald green.

 

“Monty is--”

 

“That’s right,” Miller snapped. “He’s my Soulmate.”

 

Bellamy swallowed, unable to quite look Miller in the eyes. _Good,_ Miller thought viciously. _He should be sorry._

 

“I--” Bellamy said. Stopped. “Monty-- he’s really great.”

 

“I could tell.” Miller hadn’t known Monty for more than two hours and he already knew that. Monty was like a bright light, warm and inviting and lovely, and Miller was like a moth trying desperately not to be pulled into his orbit but failing.

 

They walked in silence for a little more, but Bellamy couldn’t help but ask one more thing as they parted ways. “What are you going to do?”

 

He didn’t know. The thing was-- if this were three years ago, maybe two-- hell, even _one_ \-- the answer would’ve been, well, if not _easy,_ then at least easy-ish. Break up with Bryan. Be with Monty.

 

But he loved Bryan, and even though he had, throughout the years, thought about his Soulmate to different degrees, Soulmates were not, as pop culture led people to believe, the end-all, be-all. Monty Green wasn’t a guarantee to happiness.

 

Nevertheless, Miller got his number from Bellamy, because he figured that by now Monty would’ve figured it out as well, and he deserved an explanation, at least, as to why nothing was going to happen with them.

 

Miller didn’t mention to Bryan that he’d found his Soulmate-- he wasn’t sure what the other man’s reaction was going to be, and he wanted to figure things out with Monty before he talked to Bryan.

 

Monty picked up on the second ring. “Hello?”

 

“Hi, Monty?” Miller cleared his throat. “This is--”

 

“Miller, yeah. Bellamy, um. He said he gave you my number. As a heads up.”

 

That sounded about right. “Did he say why?” Miller asked, even if he suspected the answer was--

 

“No. But I knew. And he knew that I knew. And I knew that he knew that I knew.”

 

“A _Friends_ situation,” Miller said.

 

“Exactly,” Monty replied, and Miller knew he was smiling, somehow. “So.”

 

“So.”

 

A pause. “You’re going to make me say it, then?” Monty asked, amused. “ _You_ were the one that called me.”

 

He had a point. “We’re Soulmates,” Miller said, brusque.

 

“Yeah,” Monty said, and based on Monty’s reaction to their handshake, Miller wasn’t surprised by the heaviness in Monty’s voice. Miller wondered if he was in love with someone else, too. “We are.”

 

Silence.

 

Miller licked his lips. “I don’t…” he sighed. “I have a boyfriend.”

 

“Ahh,” Monty said. “You love him.”

 

“I do,” Miller agreed. “I want to do right by him.”

 

Another pause. Miller stayed silent; he could tell, somehow, that Monty wasn’t waiting for him to speak more. He was thinking; figuring out what he wanted to say.

 

“Stay with him,” Monty said finally. “Don’t-- don’t worry about it.”

 

Going into the conversation Miller had assumed that he would tell Monty he had a boyfriend, that nothing was going to happen between them, and that was it. He hadn’t expected that, in reality, he was waiting to hear what Monty had to say before making a final decision. “Are you sure?” Miller asked, not wanting to dissect the warring emotions of relief and disappointment he felt.

 

“Yes,” Monty said firmly. “I never-- well. Lately, I’ve been thinking about this Soulmate thing, and how… I would be okay with never finding one.”

 

“Really?” Miller asked, curious.

 

“Yeah,” Monty said quietly. “My parents were Soulmates. After my dad died… my mom hasn’t been the same since. I don’t want to be like that, be what she’s become.”

 

“I’m sorry,” Miller said. He _was_ sorry. Sorry that Monty had lost his father; sorry that, in some ways, he’d lost his mother; sorry that he had given up on Soulmates because of it. Miller could sense, somehow, that before his father’s death Monty had believed in Soulmates wholeheartedly. Had _wanted_ one wholeheartedly.

 

Instead Soulmates had brought him nothing but disappointment.

 

“It happened a while ago,” Monty cleared his throat. “Anyway, this is probably for the best. Really. You don’t owe me anything, so-- Don’t worry about me, Miller.”

 

“Nathan,” Miller said suddenly. If this was the only time he spoke to his Soulmate in his entire life, he wanted him to know his first name. For some reason, this was deathly important to Miller. “My first name-- it’s Nathan. Nate.”

 

“Nate,” Monty repeated softly, and Miller had to close his eyes. His name on Monty’s lips sounded like a prayer. A wish. “Don’t worry about me, Nate. I’ll be okay.”

 

He’d probably been hanging around with Bellamy too often, but Miller couldn’t help _but_ be wracked with worry for Monty. He sounded so alone, and Miller couldn’t stand it. But what could he do? Soulmate or not, his hands were tied. He was with someone else.

 

“I--” Irrationally, Miller felt his throat close up. “I’m glad we met, Monty.”

 

“Me, too,” Monty said. “Goodbye.”

 

 _Don’t go,_ Miller’s body nearly seized with longing. _Don’t ever leave._

 

“Goodbye,” Miller said.


	2. Chapter 2

> _ Suppose for a moment that the heart has two heads, that the heart has _
> 
> _ been chained and dunked in a glass booth filled with river water. The _
> 
> _ heart is monologuing about hesitation and fulfillment while behind the _
> 
> _ red brocade the heart is drowning. Can the heart escape? Does love _
> 
> _ even care?  _ _ \-- Richard Siken,  _ **_You Are Jeff | Crush_ **

 

**One Year Later**

 

He hated formica, Miller decided, viciously and suddenly, even though he couldn’t tear his gaze away from it. He never wanted to see it again. He didn’t care how much it cost-- in his next apartment, he would get granite countertops. Or quartz. Or just say to hell with it all, and use concrete like those hipster fucks on HGTV. 

 

“Nathan?” Bryan said, worried. “Are you-- did you hear me?” 

 

Miller raised his head slowly from where he was glaring down at the kitchen countertop. “I heard you,” he said lowly. 

 

“I--” Bryan wilted, and Miller was content to let him. He knew how much Bryan hated it when Miller froze him out when he was angry at him, but what the fuck did Miller care about that anymore? 

 

Miller counted to 82 before Bryan spoke again. “I never wanted to hurt you,” he said quietly. “I-- what we had was good.” 

 

Miller couldn’t help it; he flinched. The past tense killed him. 

 

“I wanted to make us work,” Bryan said, a little desperately, “I wanted to-- to choose you the way you chose me. But--”

 

The lure of his Soulmate was too much. Too powerful. 

 

_ Or he was just weak _ , a voice inside MIller’s head said. And then, nastier,  _ or maybe he never loved you as much as you loved him. Maybe he never really loved you at all. You were just a placeholder, a sucker, who gave up your Soulmate-- for what? For nothing.  _

 

Bryan met his Soulmate randomly, the mark behind his left ear curving down and around his neck and to his shoulder blades, whorls and waves of deep, golden orange. He told Miller right away, and that he chose Miller and he loved him, and he, too, would give up his Soulmate for what they had. 

 

He lasted three weeks before he changed his mind. 

 

“I know this sucks, Nathan,” Bryan said, and Miller wanted to shout at him, rage, tell him he had no right to  _ ever _ say his name again, “but-- at least you know who your Soulmate is! At least--” 

 

Miller scoffed, shaking his head. “It’s really that easy for you, isn’t it?” He said, incredulous. “That easy to stop being with the person you’ve been with for  _ five years _ and to move on to something else, just because a Mark told you so? You think that I’m the type of man who’s going to speed dial Monty the minute I walk out of here and say, ‘Hey, I’m sorry that I chose another guy over you a year ago, but what do you say? Let’s give it a go.’ Are you fucking  _ kidding _ me?” 

 

Bryan stared at him. “Monty,” he said, and Miller wanted to reach into Bryan’s mouth and pull Monty’s name back out of it. He didn’t deserve to speak it. “His name. You-- you never told me what it was.” 

 

“You never asked,” Miller said dryly. 

 

“I--” Bryan swallowed. “I guess I didn’t want to know, then. I… you still remember?” 

 

“Of course I remember.” It was just a name, after all, and one he tried not to think about often. But he remembered every detail about Monty, and now Miller let himself recall those details he had repressed for months, because hell, why not add to the pain? He remembered the color of Monty’s shirt and the feel of his palm and the way his eyes crinkled when he laughed at Bellamy’s stupid jokes and how he used his hands to talk. He remembered the way his jaw looked like half in light and half in shadow. He remembered the way Monty said his name. 

 

Bryan’s lips quirked up, but his eyes were sad. “You’ll be just fine,” he said confidently. 

 

“Go fuck yourself,” Miller said sharply, because memories meant nothing, not when he chose another man. Not when he chose the wrong man. 

 

Bryan startled. “Nathan--” he said, as Nathan got up from the counter abruptly and went into their bedroom, pulling out his duffle bag and shoving things into it. “Wait, what are you--” 

 

“If you think I’m staying here, alone, tonight, you’ve got to be fucking kidding,” Miller said, already calculating which bus he was going to take to Bellamy’s. Fuck it. He’d Uber. 

 

“Is this how we’re leaving it?” Bryan said, incredulous, as Miller stalked to the bathroom and pulled out toiletries. “After all this time?” 

 

“Sweetheart,” Miller snarled, “don’t pin this on me. You really thought I would take this well? Jesus  _ Christ _ , Bryan, do you even know me at all?” He didn’t wait for a response; he didn’t want to know. “My rent is paid through this month. After that, you’re on your own. I’m contacting the landlord tomorrow to get my name off the lease.”

 

“Wait, let’s just--” 

 

“There’s nothing more to say,” Miller said wearily, zipping up his bag and slinging it over his shoulder. “We both made our choices, and now we have to live with them.” 

 

* * *

 

Bellamy tried to talk him out of him, as he always did. “This seems a little extreme,” he said patiently in his best Big Brother voice. “Packing up and leaving like this.” 

 

Miller shrugged. It might’ve been extreme, but it wasn’t out of the blue. He’d been thinking about this for a couple months now, since the break-up. “It’s just a job interview,” he said. “If I don’t get it, I’ll stay here. If I do, I’m leaving.” 

 

“It-- there’s more than just Bryan here,” Bellamy said, getting frustrated. “I mean,  _ we’re _ here.” 

 

It hurt Miller to say it, but, “I don’t know if it’s enough,” he admitted. He looked past Bellamy towards Clarke, who was trying to listen and worry from a distance. “You get it, right?” He asked her, not caring if he was being unfair.

 

After her life fell apart after her senior year of college, Clarke left town for a year. Traveled around, both in the country and out, in better shape at times than others. Miller hadn’t known him then, but by all accounts Bellamy had been devastated. At that point they knew they were Soulmates but they weren’t close yet, hadn’t accepted it fully, but their time apart actually cemented something in their bond, and when Clarke returned they were simply Together. 

 

Clarke regretted hurting Bellamy, but she had always been insistent that her time away-- imploding on her own, as Bellamy called it-- made her ready for him in a way that staying wouldn’t have. 

 

“Better to implode on my own than to implode and take you with me,” she had said. “And ruin us.” 

 

Now Clarke looked across at Miller and admitted, “Yeah, I get it.” She paused. “But you know you can always come home, right?” 

 

Miller looked at his hands. “For so long, Bryan  _ was  _ home,” he said. “But. Yeah. I know what you mean.” 

 

He got the job. 

 

Four weeks later, he had packed up all his stuff and was leaving Boston for Portland, the historical irony of it all even having Bellamy crack a smile. 

 

“We’re going to come visit,” he warned at the airport. “Completely out of the blue. No warning at all.” 

 

“Once an asshole, always an asshole,” Miller drawled, but he was already looking forward to it. Clarke’s mother and Bellamy’s sister both coincidentally lived in the Pacific Northwest, so they would definitely be coming to visit; but Miller knew that even without their family there, Bellamy and Clarke would make the effort to see him. 

 

“How do you think we became friends?” Bellamy sniped back, but he was hugging Miller too tightly for it to be a real insult. 

 

Almost immediately after he boarded, Miller started to feel pangs of regret at leaving. Maybe Bellamy was right-- leaving was running away, giving up, admitting that he was hurting and vulnerable. 

 

But the idea of being in Boston, of the place where he and Bryan fell in love and made a life together, was unfathomable. And he had already made his decision, anyway. For now, at least, he had to live with it. 

 

In addition to getting his doctorate, his job was teaching an introductory composition and literature course at a small, prestigious private college in Salem. Despite the freshmen being rowdy and mostly hungover, Miller felt almost comfortable with them. They were new, too, trying to figure out this brand new life and environment. 

 

He opted to rent a room in a small house close to campus so he could walk there, although eventually he planned on getting a car. He was a bit farther from Portland than he’d expected, but even then it wasn’t a far drive, just straight north on I-5. It was nice, though. College towns, no matter what part of the country, had roughly the same composition, and it made the transition from being on a completely different coast a lot easier. 

 

Although there was something familiar about Oregon that Miller never expected-- 

 

Monty Green. 

 

A few weeks into the semester, Miller was walking to class, coffee in one hand, his books in another, when he ran into someone. In his quest to preserve his coffee, Miller let his books fly all over the sidewalk, and the other person bent to pick them up. Miller froze. There were a lot of Asian people here, with shaggy, glossy hair. It didn’t mean anything, it didn’t mean it was--

 

“Hey, I’m so sorry about that, I--” Monty stilled as he looked up at Miller, and then slowly rose, handing him his books. “Nate.” 

 

Miller wondered if he would ever get over the sound of his name from Monty’s lips. “Monty.” 

 

“I--” Monty looked around, and they moved over, letting other people walk around them easily. “What are you  _ doing _ here?” 

 

Miller made a half-shrug, half-wince movement that he wasn’t proud of. “I, uh. I live here?” 

 

“ _ Here _ ?” Monty said. “In Salem?” 

 

“Yeah,” Miller said. “I teach at the university.” 

 

“You,” Monty blinked. “You didn’t know I live here, too? Well. Portland. I live in Portland. I’m just here for the day working at a job fair the university is holding.” 

 

He was rambling and Miller was trying so hard not to find it cute. (He failed.) 

 

“I didn’t know you were out here. Bellamy didn’t say,” Miller said, and he wondered if that was why Bellamy tried to talk him out of moving as well. 

 

“Oh,” Monty said. “Well. I, uh. I hope you like it here.” 

 

“Thanks,” Miller said, shifting a little. He’d never felt so awkward in his life. 

 

“Cool,” Monty nodded. “Well, uh, it looks like you’re going to class, so I’ll let you.” 

 

“Wait!” Miller said, a thread of desperation running him through him. “Do you wanna-- grab coffee later? Or something?” 

 

Monty stopped, eyed him shrewdly. “Are you still with your boyfriend?” 

 

Miller blinked. He hadn’t anticipated _ that _ question. “What? No.” 

 

Monty nodded again, as if this made sense. “That’s not how this works, you know. You can’t just-- just because it didn’t work out with your boyfriend doesn’t mean that you can come to me. You can’t just take it all back. You can’t have both.” 

 

Every bone, every muscle, every fiber of Miller’s being stood frozen. He felt like he’d been slapped. Like a whole body slap. “I--  _ excuse me _ ?” 

 

Monty looked almost embarrassed, but seemed to steel himself as he continued. “I might be your Soulmate, but I’m not your guaranteed happy ending. I’m not your consolation prize.” 

 

“I didn’t…” Miller trailed off. Asking Monty to coffee was impulsive, but Miller knew that wasn’t why he did it. Seeing Monty again was visceral in a way that Miller suspected was typical of Soulmates, but he hadn’t necessarily thought of that when he asked Monty to coffee. He hadn’t even been thinking about him romantically; Monty was familiar and a friendly face, and Miller was lonely. He had just broken up with Bryan. He didn’t want anything romantic or even sexual right now, not even with his Soulmate. 

 

But he wasn’t going to tell Monty that. Why bother? He wouldn’t believe him anyway. 

 

_ This is how it’ll be _ , Miller thought.  _ Another consequence of my mistakes.  _

 

So he gave Monty a brittle, forced smile and said simply, “Fair enough.” He started to back away from him. “Have a good one, Monty.” A good day, a good life. What did it matter? 

 

Miller made a note to not go into Portland if he could help it. 

 

Monty’s expression was torn between relief and regret, and Miller didn’t stick around to see which emotion he would settle on. 

 

Again, he left. 

 

* * *

 

He found himself in Portland a couple weeks later, anyway, getting drinks with his roommate, a woman named Raven Reyes. She taught at the college as well, Intro to Mechanical Engineering, and she didn’t seem like the type to enjoy teaching, but Miller supposed that he wasn’t the type, either. Miller liked her; she was a lot like him, sort of anti-social, pretty gruff and grumpy, but she was a good, normal, considerate roommate, and he didn’t mind getting to know her better.

 

She convinced him to go into Portland for the evening, when, after she saw him wear a short-sleeved t-shirt for the first time, pointed to his Mark and asked bluntly, “So what’s the story with that?” When Miller said he’d only tell her if he was drunk, she made a way for it to happen.

 

“And it needs to be away from all of the drunk, underage assholes here,” she informed him. 

 

“Yes, ma’am,” Miller said, a little eager to see Portland-- he’d only driven through it to get to the IKEA and he hadn’t had a chance to explore since he’d settled in. He was a little apprehensive about maybe running into Monty, but didn’t let it bother him for long: Portland was a proper city, large enough where it’s not like there was much of a chance of seeing him.

 

After plying him with enough drinks, Raven managed to wrestle the whole story out of him, her gaze direct, sympathetic, and unwavering, her facial expressions betraying nothing else until he finished.

 

“That sucks,” she said. “But you know what? Fuck ‘em.  _ Both _ of them.”

 

“It’s not Monty’s fault,” Miller objected. “He was right. I chose wrong.” 

 

“You don’t know that,” Raven said. She swung her right leg, easy as anything, on the sticky bar table they shared and rolled up her pant leg. Her Mark was a deep red, cogs and machine parts crawling up her calf, with a single bird nestled within in the machinery. “My Soulmate is-- he was my best friend, my first love, and then he cheated on me. We’re still… friendly, but we can’t be together. I don’t trust him, and nothing else matters if you don’t have that. Monty was right. He’s not your guaranteed happy ending. No one is, Marks or not.” She put her leg back down. “But you know what? It sucked for a long time, but I’m going to find someone better than my Soulmate someday, who will appreciate how fucking awesome I am.” She took a drink of her beer and leveled Miller with another frank stare. “So fuck ‘em both. You don’t need either of them.” 

 

“Why would I?” Miller said mildly, but he couldn’t help but wonder just how lucky he was, to make a friend like Raven right off the bat. Maybe he didn’t have any luck when it came to love, but when it came to friends? He was overflowing with it. “I have you.” 

 

Raven toasted him. “Hell yeah, you do.” 

 

They threw back the rest of their beers. “Want another?” Miller asked. 

 

Raven leaned forward, smirking, and Miller briefly wished he was bi. He could objectively appreciate women and Raven was probably one of the hottest he’d ever seen. Alas. “How do you feel about… tequila shots?” 

 

Miller raised his eyebrows. “Yeah?” He said. 

 

“Come on. Tonight was our first roommate heart-to-heart. Commiserating on our pieces-of-shit exes. Let’s do this shit properly and have our first roommate hangover tomorrow.” 

 

Miller laughed. “All right,” he said. “My treat.” 

 

“Goddamn,” Raven sighed. “You’re already better than half the dates I went on this year. You sure you’re not bi?” 

 

Miller shook his head. “I was just asking myself the same thing,” he admitted with a grin. “Sorry, babe, you just don’t do it for me.” 

 

“Too bad,” Raven said. “We’d be the hottest fucking couple ever.” 

 

Miller was still laughing as he stumbled up to the bar and requested two tequila shots. It was crowded up there, and he barely registered the tensing of the shoulders of the man perched on a bar stool in front of him. 

 

“You got a tab, man?” The bartender asked, his eyes sweeping over Miller appreciatively. 

 

“Yeah, it’s under Miller.” 

 

“First name?” The man grinned at him. “There’s probably more than one Miller here tonight.” 

 

“Nathan,” he said awkwardly, feeling a little out of his element. The bartender was hot, but that’s not what he was there for tonight. And god, it’d been so long… did he even  _ remember _ how to flirt? “Thanks.” 

 

The bartender’s lips quirked up. He got the message. Miller made a note to tip him well when he closed out. 

 

Miller was just getting out of the fray when another man, tall, gangly, and pale, came bounding up. “Monty!” He yelled. “You ready to get out of here?” 

 

Miller froze as the man at the bar slowly swiveled to face the voice. Monty Green. They made eye-contact, ignoring Monty’s friend (boyfriend?) and Miller nodded at him. “Monty,” he said. 

 

“Nate.” 

 

The man gawked at them. “Monty?” He said. “Is this  _ him _ ?” 

 

Miller didn’t know how he felt about Monty talking about him with this other guy-- who clearly seemed like a friend, now that he thought about it-- but he decided he  _ really _ didn’t want to stick around and hear what Monty told him, so he said simply, “Yup.” He nodded at them cordially. “Have a good night, guys.” And he left. 

 

Raven peered at him as he came back. “What the hell happened to you?” She asked. 

 

“Soulmate’s here,” Miller said, handing her the shot. “Ready?” 

 

“Fuck,” Raven said. “Should we go somewhere else?” 

 

“Nah,” Miller said, already getting ready to down his shot. “But I’ll probably need another one of these.” 

 

“I’ll go up there this time,” Raven reassured him as they clinked their glasses together. 

 

“Thank Christ,” Miller muttered as he downed it. 

 

To his relief, he didn’t see Monty again that night. 

 

But he kept seeing him other places, so often that Miller was wondering if he was cursed: at Powell’s, browsing in the sci-fi section; hiking in Forest Park; even around campus a few weeks later, meeting a student for a job interview. 

 

They didn’t say much to each other, usually nodded and went on their ways, but Miller could feel Monty’s presence, seemed to know when he was nearby and when he left, and it drove him crazy, knowing there was nothing he could do about it.  

 

The next time it happened, they were at a bar again, Miller with Raven, and Monty with his gangly friend again. Miller resolved to ignore him, and Raven reluctantly agreed to as well, even though she was sick of the way they seemed to be dancing around each other.

 

“It’s not by choice,” Miller said. “If we had our way we would never see each other.” 

 

Raven shrugged. “You know I don’t put much stock into fate,” she said, “but you realize that this shit seems pretty inevitable, right? You need to learn how to deal with each other.” 

 

_ “I’m _ not the one who’s not dealing with it,” Miller reminded her. 

 

“Okay, then,” Raven said easily, “he needs to learn to deal with you.” 

 

Judging by the way Monty kept warily eyeing him from the furthest point in the bar, Miller doubted that that was happening anytime soon, but as the night wore on and the drinks kept coming, it seemed, as Raven put it, inevitable, that something was bound to happen. 

 

“This is ridiculous!” Monty’s friend was saying loudly, clearly drunk, arms flailing. Miller and Raven, at the pool table, were both trying not to stare. 

 

“Jasper,” they could hear Monty say. “Stop. Not here.” 

 

“Why not here?” Jasper said. “ _ He _ ’s here! He’s  _ everywhere _ . Monty, when are you going to just realize that this--  _ he _ \-- is not going away anytime soon? Go talk to him.” 

 

Monty scrubbed a hand over his face. “No, okay? I already explained to you--”

 

“That’s  _ bullshit! _ People mess up, okay?” Jasper sobered a little. “People mess up, and you can’t keep punishing them; if you care about them, you’re not just punishing them, you’re punishing yourself.” 

 

“Damn,” Raven muttered. “And I thought that guy was just high all the time and had no clue what was going on.” 

 

“That could still be partially true,” Miller said dryly, trying not to get his hopes up. 

 

Monty said, “I don’t care about him.” 

 

Miller tried not to wince. 

 

“Bullshit,” Jasper said sharply. “You’re Monty Green; you care about everyone. You wouldn’t be you if you didn’t.” 

 

“Jasper--” Monty said, and then he dropped his voice so low that even Raven and Miller couldn’t hear him, and suddenly Miller was tired, so goddamn tired, of the whole thing. 

 

“Can we go?” He asked Raven. “I don’t wanna be here anymore.” 

 

“Of course,” she said. “Lemme go close out.” 

 

Miller decided to wait for her outside, even if it was too cold to stand out there in just his pullover. He did appreciate that apparently, Oregon winters were nothing compared to Massachusetts winters, but he did still miss home. He was surprised to find that he didn’t miss Bryan as much as he thought he would-- at least, not traits that were specific to Bryan. He missed more what Bryan represented as his boyfriend; he missed the companionship more, the idea of having one person as your confidante and support system.  

 

But, well, that wasn’t necessarily true, either. He missed how Bryan sang in the shower; how he always cooked him his favorite meal when he had a bad day; he missed the dimple in Bryan’s left cheek and the way his hair always stuck up in the morning; he missed the way he smelled and the way he had a specific routine on Sunday mornings (coffee, newspaper, cleaning, long jog.) He missed how Bryan knew every part of him and loved them all… yet he wasn’t enough. All of that wasn’t enough. 

 

Miller heard the bar door finally open and he turned around with a huff, saying, “Finally--”

 

It was Monty. 

 

Hands buried in his coat pockets, looking small and scared and cold. Miller didn’t know if he wanted to ignore him or go give him a hug. “Hey,” he said.

 

“Hey,” said Miller. He wondered if Jasper had finally convinced him-- he hoped that Raven didn’t say anything to him, but then he quickly shut down those thoughts. Monty probably wanted to leave, too. Maybe he was calling an uber while Jasper closed his tab or puked in the bathroom or whatever. So, he turned back around and busied himself with his phone. He wouldn’t make Monty talk to him when he clearly didn’t want to. 

 

And yet, he heard the clearing of Monty’s throat behind him as he stepped around and closer to Miller. “So, I guess you heard everything in there, huh?” 

 

“Hard not to,” Miller said shortly. 

 

“I…” 

 

“Listen,” Miller cut him off. “You don’t owe me anything. Don’t worry about it.” 

 

Monty was quiet for a moment. “You’re right,” he said finally. “I don’t owe you anything. And you don’t owe  _ me _ anything. But what if we just… started to?” 

 

Miller turned towards him. “What?” 

 

Monty looked flushed and nervous, staring at Miller shyly. “It  _ does  _ seem stupid,” he admitted, “how often we’ve run into each other and just ignored each other and… I don’t want to keep doing that anymore.” 

 

“You sure about that?” Miller raised an eyebrow. “That’s not what I heard in there.” 

 

Monty sighed. “Yeah, sometimes… sometimes Jasper knows me better than I know myself. He was right. I can’t  _ not _ care, and I want us to be friends, at least.” 

 

Miller nodded. “Okay,” he said. A part of him-- a proud part of him-- wanted to tell Monty no, as revenge for his previous rejection, but Miller didn’t want to give up this opportunity. He didn’t want something stupid like his pride getting in the way of the once-in-a-lifetime chance to get to know his Soulmate; for all of the people he knew who had found their Soulmate, there were easily hundreds of people who never had or never would. 

 

Monty kept going. “I mean it,” he said. “Friends. No-- no romance. No sex.” 

 

Miller wasn’t thinking about  _ that _ , at least not immediately, but he still felt the need to clarify, “Now? Or…” 

 

“Never,” Monty said firmly. “I just-- we can be in each other’s lives but not that.” 

 

Miller wanted to ask if he was making a hasty decision about that, but then he remembered what Monty said about his parents, and figured that’s what he was talking about. “All right,” he said. “That’s-- that’s fine.” As of right now, anyway. Whether or not it became an issue down the line he didn’t want to worry about at the moment. 

 

“So you can date other people,” Monty said. “Really.” 

 

Miller snorted. “I’m not really interested in dating at all right now,” he assured him. “But thanks.” 

 

Monty shifted. “How long has it been?” he asked. “Since you’ve become… single.” 

 

“Five months,” Miller said. “So… not long.” 

 

Monty nodded. “Is that why you didn’t go home with that bartender?” 

 

Miller blinked. “What?” 

 

“At that bar last month, you know--” 

 

“Oh.” Miller said. He didn’t think Monty had noticed that. “Yeah. I’m not interested in anything right now, so don’t worry. We can be just friends and it’ll be fine. And… anytime you want out, or whatever. Just let me know.” 

 

Finally, Monty smiled. “Okay,” he said. “You, too. Really. I’m… uh. I’m glad we’ve figured this out.” 

 

Miller’s lips quirked. “Me, too,” he said honestly. 

 

Later, after he and Monty established they still had each other’s cell phone numbers (Miller didn’t question why Monty still had his, nor did he say why he had Monty’s--) and he was in an Uber with Raven, he waited for her to say something. He could out-wait her and it drove her crazy. 

 

“What?” She finally demanded. “No ‘thank you?’’ 

 

“For what?” He asked mildly. 

 

She punched him in the arm.

 

“ _ Jesus _ !” Miller swore. “Come on, Reyes!” 

 

“ _ I _ was the one who marched up to him and his friend and told him he better get his ass out there and make things right with you because we all knew he wanted to and he was just too chicken-shit to admit it.” 

 

“And here I thought he came out of his own volition,” Miller said wryly. 

 

Raven admitted, “Apparently he was already going to do it and my input was unnecessary.  _ But _ \--” 

 

“Thank you, Raven,” Miller said sincerely. She was a good friend. Clarke and Bellamy would like her. 

 

This stopped her. “You’re welcome,” she said finally. 

 

A few blocks later, she put her head on his shoulder. Miller put his head on top of hers. 

 

Things were looking up. 

 


	3. Chapter 3

> _“This time everyone has the best intentions…Let’s say you’ve swallowed_
> 
> _a bad thing and now it’s got its hands inside you. This is the essence_
> 
> _of love and failure. You see what I mean but you’re happy anyway, and_
> 
> _that’s okay, it’s a love story after all, a lasting love, a wonderful adventure_
> 
> _with lots of action… Let’s say you’re still completely in the dark but we love_
> 
> _you anyway. We love you. We really do.”_ _\-- Richard Siken,_ **_You Are Jeff | Crush_ **

 

Bellamy was quiet for a long time. And then, “Are you up for having visitors? What are you doing for Thanksgiving?”

 

“Wait, what?” Miller said. Whatever he expected Bellamy’s reaction to be after telling him about Monty, that certainly wasn’t it.

 

“A visit,” Bellamy repeated, and through the phone Miller could hear him flip through papers. “I have the full week off of Thanksgiving, and-- _Clarke_! How much vacation do you have?”

 

“Bellamy,” Miller shook his head. His best friend was absolutely ridiculous. “You don’t have to do this.”

 

“We were going to come visit you regardless,” Bellamy said impatiently. “Why not at Thanksgiving?”

 

“I thought you were going to come anyway at Christmas,” Miller pointed out. “Which isn’t very far away.” Granted, _he_ wasn’t going to be here at Christmas-- he was going to fly out to see his dad, but still. He didn’t want Bellamy to waste the money on _two_ expensive trips.

 

“I can’t come see my best friend?” Bellamy grumbled.

 

“Not when you’re being such a Mom about it,” Miller said. “Bellamy, I’m fine. I’ve made, like, two friends and everything.”

 

“That’s pretty impressive for you,” Bellamy said grudgingly, “but do they count if they’re your roommate and your Soulmate?”

 

“I mean, it’s not like it’s a requirement to be friends with your roommate,” Miller said. “Or your Soulmate.”

 

“That’s true,” Bellamy said. “Listen, if you really don’t want me to come out there, I won’t, but-- I _do_ miss you. I want to see you. I’m not _just_ worried about you.”

 

Miller rolled his eyes, “How reassuring.” He sighed. “If you really can afford to come out here… I’d be happy to have you.”

 

“Awww,” Bellamy said. “You miss me, too.”

 

“You wish,” Miller said, but he was smiling.

 

* * *

 

“So let me get this straight,” Monty said, a few days later as he and Miller drank a latte (Miller) and hot tea (Monty) at a cafe near campus. Monty had come out to be a guest lecturer on what it was like to work in pharmaceutics, and had texted Miller to ask if he wanted to grab lunch or coffee while he was there. Miller had been surprised, but pleased, by the invite and accepted. “Bellamy and Clarke are coming here to… check on you?”

 

Miller’s lips quirked. “Basically,” he said, too touched to even fake irritation. “You know how they are. They’re the Parent Friends.”

 

Monty smiled back at him as well, hesitantly. He was shy today, a bit awkward, but Miller didn’t mind at all. He was just happy he was here. “It could be worse,” he told Miller. “You could have friends who didn’t care at all.”

 

Miller studied Monty. The words were said off-handedly, and the tone was light, but he just had this feeling… “Sounds like you know from experience,” he said casually.

 

Monty shrugged and looked away, giving himself away easily. Miller didn’t push, though, didn’t say anything else. “I guess,” he said finally. “Yeah. Jasper and I kind of… had a falling out a while ago.”

 

Miller raised his eyebrows. “Really?” He couldn’t imagine it. As far as he knew, Monty and Jasper had been friends their entire lives. Hell, he was surprised sometimes that _they_ weren’t Soulmates.

 

“Yeah,” Monty said, shifting a bit. “It was about Jasper’s Soulmate, Shae. Sort of. It started when she… well, _they_ , broke up a couple years ago.”

 

“Was there a reason behind it?” Miller asked.

 

Monty nodded. “Shae and Jasper had been together for a few years-- found each other right out of college at a comi-con of all things. I mean, I guess that’s not surprising for either of them, but-- anyway. Everything was fine. She and Jasper wanted to wait to pay off their student loans before they got married. They were just starting to plan their wedding when Shae discovers this, this religion, I guess. I don’t know. It was more like a cult, honestly. They were like if someone combined hippies and the Amish and then put them on steroids-- I don’t know how to describe it. Purists, maybe? Think about a vegan plus someone on a paleo diet, who believes in a fully cruelty-free life, does a lot of yoga, and spurns anything that ‘poisons’ the body or mind, things like modern conveniences. I don’t know how they make a living, honestly, but they’re sort of off-the-grid, just kind of living in the middle of nowhere. They feel like if they reject all ‘poisonous’ things their lifespan will be double what everyone else’s is. It’s crazy, and I never thought Shae would be into that, but she was. And she really wanted Jasper to be into it.” Monty shook his head. “And he-- he tried. He really did. I couldn’t believe it! He gave up video games and junk food and pot and meat and everything. But he didn’t actually think it would last as long as it did, and when Shae found out he was just humoring her she went ballistic. This wasn’t a phase to her, it was her _life_. And Jasper couldn’t do it anymore. He was completely miserable, and he was ruining his life over it. She made him quit his job, give up his friends, give up his family… he had to make a choice and so did she. He wasn’t going to change his mind and neither was she. So they broke up.

 

“He was a mess,” Monty continued. “And I tried to be there for him, and I thought it would get better over time, but it didn’t. He got worse, somehow. He didn’t get his life together; instead, he kept thinking he could change her mind. He wouldn’t give up on her; her obsession in the cult was just a problem they could overcome, and anyone who suggested otherwise didn’t support him. She was obsessed with the cult; he was obsessed with her.” Monty sighed. “And even… when my dad died, he was there for me, but not really, you know? It was just him going through the motions, because he couldn’t help my dad being dead, but he could still solve his problems.”

 

“ _Fuck_ ,” Miller swore. It was a good thing Jasper wasn’t there at the moment; Miller would’ve throttled him. “But things are better now.”

 

Monty nodded. “We had an intervention,” he said. “Jasper got some professional help. Things have slowly gotten better-- I would really say they’ve only felt something close to normal only the past six months, really. But… it’s hard for me to forgive him. I know I should, but…” Monty trailed off. “He’s been my best friend since we were in pre-school. And when my dad died, and my mom _broke_ , he wasn’t there for me, and I _know_ I was there for him. I know that’s not fair, and he wasn’t totally mentally or emotionally stable at the time, but it still hurts. He still just didn’t give a shit, and I can’t help but wondering if we’ll ever get past it. He feels it, and I do, too.”

 

Miller shook his head. “I’m sorry,” was all he could say. “I’m so sorry you were alone through all of that.”

 

Monty gave him a weak smile. “I mean, I have other friends--”

 

“But none like him,” Miller interrupted. “You _wanted_ him by your side.”

 

“Yeah,” Monty admitted. “I did.” He looked at Miller closely. “Is this how all Soulmates are?” He wondered. “Just-- having the ability to call bullshit on the other person right away?”

 

Miller laughed a little, let him change the subject. “Maybe,” he said. “Or I’m just good at it.”

 

“Yeah, you seem like you have a good poker face,” Monty said. “It might not be as easy for me.”

 

Miller’s lips quirked. “Time will tell,” he said, happy that right now, in the sunny autumn afternoon light, that was true.

 

Miller hadn’t realized, however, that Bellamy and Clarke’s visit--or their reasons for visiting-- were still on Monty’s mind until he brought it up a few weeks later.

 

“I--” Monty fidgeted with the cuffs of his sleeves, something Miller noticed he did when he was nervous. “Do Bellamy and Clarke… do they think I’m going to hurt you?”

 

Miller and Monty were at the baggage claim of PDX, waiting for Bellamy and Clarke to come in for Thanksgiving. It was a ragtag group of them coming together: Raven didn’t really have any family; Jasper’s parents lived on the other side of the country, and Monty’s mother, though she lived in Portland, was still estranged from her son; Bellamy and Clarke were coming in for Thanksgiving and the day after, then heading up to Seattle to spend a couple days with Octavia and Abby. Miller’s father, who lived in Washington, D.C., couldn’t make it out and it was too expensive for Miller to fly back just for a few days, so it was a Friendsgiving, which Miller never minded. Things were more informal that way, anyway.

 

Miller turned towards Monty, bemused. “What?” He asked, frowning. “What do you mean?”

 

“You said Bellamy was worried about you,” Monty reminded him. “That’s why he insisted on coming here. Was he worried about… about me?”

 

“Bellamy’s worried about a lot of things,” Miller said lightly, which was true enough, but Bellamy was mostly worried about having Monty and Miller be just friends, especially when Miller was still reeling from Bryan.

 

“I don’t…” Monty said quietly. “I’m not going to hurt you. I don’t want to. I just--” He broke off, looking sadder than Miller’s ever seen him.

 

Miller got it. It wasn’t so much that he was holding a grudge against him, it was just pure self-preservation. Miller couldn’t blame him for that.

 

“Bellamy and Clarke would never think you’d hurt me intentionally,” he said instead. “They know who you are. It’s not so much about you, it’s just about where I’m at.”

 

Monty bit his lip. “If you say so,” he said.

“Listen,” Miller said firmly. “You’re my friend, they’re my friends. They have to deal with it and mind their own business and they know it. You’re not going anywhere.”

 

Monty smiled at him, hesitant and small but real, and Miller felt himself smile back. He was so fucked, he thought briefly, before his phone buzzed. Bellamy was calling.

 

“Where are you?” Miller asked.

 

“Hello to you, too,” Bellamy said, but Miller could tell he was excited. “I’m headed to baggage. Number fourteen?”

 

“Yeah, Monty and I are here,” Miller said.

 

“Ahh,” Bellamy said, catching Miller’s meaning. “Smart. Clarke and I will have to wait to interrogate you, then.”

 

Miller snorted. “Good luck with that.”

 

“I think I see you,” Bellamy said.

 

Miller turned around and there was Bellamy, curls mussed, wry smile on his face. _What an asshole_ , Miller thought.

 

“Where’s Clarke?” Miller asked without preamble.

 

“Nice to see you, too,” Bellamy rolled his eyes as he and Miller hugged. He gave Monty a hug, too. “Get this-- we get off the plane and are walking here when Clarke runs into an old friend, so she tells me to go ahead and they’ll catch up. I think you know him, too? His name is--”

 

Miller squinted in the distance and saw them coming. “Wells Jaha,” he said in disbelief.

 

“Yeah,” Bellamy said. “Clarke said you all grew up together?”

 

“We did,” Miller answered, his eyes still on the laughing pair who were making their way towards them. “I don’t know about Clarke, but Wells and I lost touch a few years ago, after my dad moved away and I no longer had any reason to go back to my hometown.”

 

“I think they speak to each other occasionally,” Bellamy said. “He was supposed to visit us, but he’s always busy working.”

 

“He’s not working right now, is he?” Miller asked incredulously.

 

“Not sure,” Bellamy said. “You’ll have to ask him.”

 

Wells and Clarke had reached them now, and although Miller hadn’t seen Wells in years he was the same as ever, bright smile, laughing eyes, and Clarke beside him, smiling and looking carefree, and it was like they’re all seventeen again, hugging and laughing each other.

 

“Hey, man,” Wells said. “What a small world, huh?”

 

“What the hell are you doing here, Jaha?” Miller asked him, grinning. “Don’t tell me you’re working.”

 

Wells gave him a sheepish look. “Guilty. Sort of!” He said. “You know things between my dad and I aren’t great… I was supposed to come to Portland post-Thanksgiving on a trip, so I thought I’d come early and just spend it here.”

 

“Spend it with us,” Miller said easily.

 

“Oh, I already invited him,” Clarke said breezily. “Hope you don’t mind.”

 

“So rude,” Bellamy rolled his eyes, but he was smiling, too. Whenever Clarke was happy he was happy.

 

“Oh!” Speaking of rude… Miller turned to Monty. “Wells, this is my friend Monty Green. Monty, this is Wells Jaha. As Bellamy said, he and Clarke and I all grew up together.”

 

“Nice to meet you,” Monty said, shaking Wells’ hand. He looked a little uneasy, slightly awkward, and Miller did feel a little badly-- he was sure Monty felt like an outsider. He wished that he could take his hand or put his arm around him, or do something to reassure him, but that wasn’t what friends Did, so he was stuck with his hands at his sides.

 

“Where’s your hotel?” Miller asked, turning back to Wells. “I’m a little outside of Portland. Do you have a rental car? If not, we can come get you on Thanksgiving.”

 

“I should be able to get a rental car,” Wells said with a smile. “Man, this is so great. The best Thanksgiving I could’ve hoped for was room service turkey and ignoring calls from my dad.”

 

“Damn,” Miller said, shaking his head. Like Miller, the only family Wells really had was his father, and Thelonious Jaha was no David Miller. “Let’s not lose touch like that ever again.”

 

“I second that,” Clarke said heartily. “Shall we?”

 

“We were going to go to dinner now,” Miller said. “Wanna join?”

 

“Yeah,” Wells said, smile growing. “I’d love to.”

 

* * *

 

Clarke stayed longer in Portland with Wells than the boys did, catching up, and would just take an Uber home, so it was just Miller, Bellamy, and Monty driving on the way home.

 

“You didn’t want to stay with Clarke and Wells to catch up more?” Monty asked.

 

Miller shrugged. “Nah,” he said. “Those two were always closer, which is fine. Plus,” he said, looking in his rearview mirror at the back seat, where Bellamy was fast asleep, “I could tell this guy was fading fast.”

 

Monty was quiet for a moment. “Do you… do you know if Wells found his Soulmate?”

 

The question came out of nowhere, but considering the fact that by now Miller was 100% positive that Clarke had filled Wells in on who Monty really was, he couldn’t say he was all that surprised by it. Miller thought about it, then shook his head. “The last time we saw each other we hadn’t even graduated college, so-- if he did, it wasn’t until after that time. I’m sure Clarke’s getting the story from him now.”

 

Miller turned to Monty with a grin. “Wells is great, though,” he said. “If he’s still the same guy as he was when he was 21, which, I’m pretty sure he is, then you two will get along great. You know those personality things that you see on the internet? If Clarke and I are both true neutrals, Wells is like, lawful good. Like, the best good there is.”

 

Monty’s eyebrows went up. “That’s quite the… wow.”

 

“I know,” Miller said, “it’s hard to believe we were friends, right?”

 

Monty cracked a smile. “I didn’t want to be _rude_ and point that out, but yeah. I was wondering.”

 

“I know I’m a moody bastard,” Miller said. “I don’t like a lot of people, and you would think that people like Wells-- overly optimistic, sees the best in people… you would think that annoys me. And in most people, it does. It usually rings pretty false or those people are overly peppy and I can’t handle it. But Wells is calmer. Steadier. He’s like a river, with this constant current of _good_ , you know what I mean? I don’t know what Clarke and I would’ve done without him, growing up.”

 

“You two are pretty steady yourselves,” Monty said.

 

Miller thought about it. “Yeah,” he conceded. “But I’m, you know, moody, and Clarke’s just the human embodiment of Grumpy Cat. We don’t freak out, exactly, but we withdraw when we’re feeling vulnerable, or we lash out completely. We both need-- we both need someone to lighten us up, put things into perspective. You know? And Wells was that for both of us.”

 

Monty was quiet. “You’re lucky,” he said, and Miller wondered if he was thinking of Jasper. “Really lucky.”

 

“Don’t I know it,” Miller said, thinking of how lucky he was with platonic relationships and how dismal he was with romantic ones. Well-- God didn’t give with both hands, after all. And if this was his lot in life, he would take it, no (minimal) complaining.

 

“Hey,” Miller said, as they pulled up to Monty’s apartment building. “Thanks for coming to get them tonight. I know they appreciated it and so do I.”

 

That got the biggest smile out of Monty that night. “I had fun,” he said. “It’s good to see them again. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

 

Miller fought the sudden urge to lean over and give him a good-bye kiss. “Yeah,” he said. “Tomorrow.”

 

* * *

 

The little house was warm and cramped, but Miller had never felt more at home. They had just finished eating and everyone was squabbling over who was going to clean up and who would be able to just sprawl out on the couch and fall into a food coma.

 

“We’re your guests,” Bellamy said firmly. “We need to clean up.”

 

“Agreed,” Wells said.

 

“You guys cooked a lot of the food!” Miller protested, but it was a little half-hearted. He was comfortable where he was at, if he was being honest, boneless on the couch, Monty’s shoulder touching his. “Let us do it.”

 

Raven rolled her eyes from the table, where she still sat with Clarke. The two had hit it off almost immediately, to Miller’s delight. Her cheeks were flushed with all of the alcohol they had been steadily drinking since noon and she had been eyeing Wells all night. Miller hadn’t had a chance to talk much with Clarke in the chaos of the cooking and prep work, so he wasn’t sure what Wells’ romantic situation was, but he hoped that it was such that Raven could, at least, get laid while he was here. “Great. Wells, Bellamy, you two are on dish duty. When you get tired of it, we’ll switch.” She looked at the wine bottle. “Refill, anyone?”

 

“Me,” Jasper said dully, raising his empty glass up. Out of the corner of his eye, Miller saw Monty tense. While everyone had been drinking throughout the day and into the night, they had also eaten so much so that they were just tipsy as opposed to the straight-up sloshed they might’ve otherwise been. Jasper, on the other hand, ate little and drank a lot. Miller had only recently started paying attention to how much Jasper was drinking when the effects became more and more obvious, but if he had to guess he would say that Jasper easily polished off a bottle of wine on his own.

 

“Careful,” Monty said, striving to sound playful, but the strained, worried undercurrent in his voice was evident. “Don’t want to get a hangover tomorrow.”

 

Jasper shrugged sullenly, his only reply, before downing his cup. Monty winced. Jasper noticed and sighed loudly. “ _What_ , Monty?” He said loudly.

 

Monty flinched and Miller’s eyes narrowed, shoulders tensing. “Nothing,” he said hesitantly. “It’s just-- are you okay?”

 

Jasper barked out a laugh. “Am I okay?” He asked, a little hysterically. Jasper addressed the room at large, eyes wide and unfocused. “He asks if I’m okay!”

 

Monty stood up, leaving Miller’s shoulder cold. “Let’s go talk about this outside,” he said firmly, steering Jasper to the door and beyond.

 

“I’m gonna… see if the boys need help with the dishes,” Raven said, standing. While she wasn’t one to shy away from confrontation, Miller didn’t blame her in this instance; she barely knew Jasper or Monty and listening in on other people’s fights was awkward, especially if you knew them.

 

Clarke stayed put, though, and looked at Miller. “Monty can handle himself,” she said softly, watching Miller bore holes into the door as muffled shouts filtered through. He looked at her; sometimes he forgot that she knew Monty long before he did.

 

“Yeah,” Miller said. Monty was no pushover, he knew that for sure. “I just-- Jasper’s already hurt him so much, you know? And I thought they were in a good place now…”

 

Clarke sighed. “If only it were that easy,” she said. “Friendships. Relationships. If only hitting rock-bottom only happened once, and everything thereafter was just-- up from there. No sliding back. No set backs.”

 

Miller looked at her, startled. “You’re not…?”

 

Clarke laughed. “Talking about Bellamy? No,” she said with a smile. “He’s something that I’m determined not to fuck up. No going backward, if I can help it. I was talking about my mom. I haven’t seen her in nearly a year and I’m a little nervous about how it’ll go.” Clarke and her mother always had a volatile relationship, made worse after Jake’s death, and while they were better than they had been in years, Miller understood that fear, that nervousness, that things would never be100% okay between them: after all, that’s how he felt about Monty.

 

Clarke got up, too, stretching. “I think I’ll tag Bellamy out,” she said, and Miller knew what she was doing immediately. “I’m a guest, too, after all.”

 

Miller rolled his eyes, but let her go.

 

Unfortunately, in the quiet of the living room, he could better hear what Jasper and Monty were saying:

 

“I’m alone, Monty! Alone. Of course I’m fucking miserable.”

 

“Jasper,” Monty said, and he sounded so tired. “You’re not. You have your parents and our friends and you have me.”

 

Jasper scoffed. “That’s not what I meant, and you know it. How would you know? How could you possibly understand? You found your _Soulmate_ , Monty! And he’s single and obviously crazy about you, and you-- you aren’t doing a damn thing about it! God, you make me sick.”

 

“It’s not that simple,” Monty said, desperately. “And Nate and I-- we’re friends. I _am_ doing something about it. Maybe it’s not something you’d do, but--”

 

“You’re fooling yourself if you think he’s going to stick around if all you’re willing to be is _friends_ with him,” Jasper said cruelly. “He’s going to get tired of your shit sooner or later, Monty, and don’t come crying to me when you pass up the chance to be with your totally normal, hot Soulmate.”

 

Miller couldn’t hear Monty’s response-- whatever he said, it was pitched such where he could only hear murmurings, but he sounded _broken._

 

A hand rested on Miller’s shoulder and he jumped, looked up at Bellamy, whose eyes were dark and tense. Miller wasn’t sure how long Bellamy had been standing there, but, like Miller, he heard enough to be angry. Bellamy’s hand squeezed, and Miller bristled, thinking Bellamy was trying to give him a warning, like, _No, it’s not okay to go out there and kick your Soulmate’s best friend’s ass._ But the Miller realized that Bellamy knew him better than that, and Miller knew _Bellamy_ better than that, and what Bellamy really meant was, _Yes, go do something about it._ And, _You need back-up?_

 

Bellamy was the fucking _best._

 

Miller stood, Bellamy’s hand dropping, and said, “I’ll go handle it, but--”

 

“I’ll listen for any trouble,” Bellamy finished.

 

Miller nodded and stepped outside and saw the scene as he expected it: Jasper, angry and drunk; Monty, dejected and sober. Miller looked at Jasper. “That’s enough,” he said firmly, willing his body not to shake with the bottled-up anger and adrenaline. “Thanks for coming,” he said, spitting out the words, “But I think it’s time for you to go.”

 

“Nate,” Monty began, but Miller cut him off, focusing on Jasper.

 

“I ordered you an Uber. It should be here in five minutes. I highly suggest you take it. You have everything you need? Keys, wallet, phone?”

 

Jasper looked like he wanted to argue, but he took one look at Miller’s face and wisely decided not to argue. “I have everything,” he said gruffly.

 

The three of them waited, awkwardly, in silence, for Jasper’s Uber to come, and once it did he got in without saying another word and it whisked him away.

 

Miller looked and saw Bellamy at the front window, trying not to spy. He was terrible at it, but he supposed Bellamy didn’t care about stealth. Miller nodded at him, _I got this_ , and Bellamy nodded back, disappearing further into the house and giving Miller and Monty some privacy.

 

Miller turned to Monty, finally, the latter of whom had his arms crossed over his chest and he looked so small, so broken and all Miller wanted to do was pull him into his arms and hold him. Not tell him everything was going to be okay, not say a single thing: just hold him.

  
  
But that's not what-- well, perhaps it was what friends did, but it's not what _they_ did. They had boundaries and rules that Miller would never cross out of respect for Monty, so he shoved his hands deep in his pockets, hunching his shoulders over, and just looked at him.

 

“Nate,” Monty started. “I’m so--”

 

“None of this was your fault,” Miller said sharply. “None of it. Okay?”

 

Monty sighed. “Jasper’s a good guy,” he said. “He really is. And he’s been better. But, as you can see, when he’s been drinking…”

 

“He becomes a real asshole,” Miller finishes bluntly. “Does he do that a lot? Drink and then try and blame you and the rest of the world for his misfortunes?”

 

“Not as often as he used to,” Monty said after a pause.

 

“ _Fuck,_ Monty,” Miller said, appalled.

 

“He’s my best friend,” Monty said. “Since we were kids. I can’t- I _won’t_ abandon him, okay?”

 

Miller didn’t like it, but he got it. And he knew that although he would stick up for Monty to anyone for anything, he couldn’t fight his battles for him, so he let it go.

 

“Okay,” he said placatingly.

 

“Okay?” Monty asked in disbelief.

 

"Yeah,” Miller confirmed. “But-- just know: You're not alone anymore," Miller said lowly, fiercely. "Okay, Monty? Even if you don't feel like you have Jasper anymore, you have _me._ You'll always have me."

 

Monty swallowed, his eyes wide at Miller’s intensity. “Okay,” he whispered.

 

Miller had to break eye contact, unable to maintain it for much longer without doing something monumentally stupid, like kissing Monty’s cute, stupid face.

 

Over Monty's shoulder, through the front window and beyond, Miller saw Wells and Raven, shoulder-to-shoulder, laughing and doing dishes. In the living room, Clarke and Bellamy were on the couch, curled up together, and something positively _ached_ in Miller as he re-focused on Monty. What he and Monty had was Enough, he told himself firmly, trying to shove the emotions and urges and dreams down deep, where he couldn't get to them anymore. He'd had his chance and lost it; now he had to live with the consequences, shitty as that sounded; because he loved being Monty's friend, being in Monty's life, but he also knew that now that he knew he wanted to be more, he would never stop wanting it, either.

 

"Nate?" Monty asked softly and Miller came back to himself. "You okay?"

  
  
Miller nodded jerkily. Get it together, he told himself. _This isn't about you right now. This is about Monty._

  
  
"You sure?" Monty reached over, touched Millers jacket tentatively, and it was all Miller could do to stop himself from hauling Monty closer. "You look... Like a storm cloud. Ready to burst."

  
  
_Ain't that the truth_ , Miller thought bitterly as he tried to paste a smile on his face. "Just aftershocks," he said lightly.  "I still kinda want to bash Jasper's face in."

  
  
Surprisingly, this made Monty laugh. "I kinda do, too," he admitted sheepishly.

  
  
Miller smiled at him, more genuinely in the face of Monty's laughter. "Ready to back in?" He said.

  
  
Monty smiled back at him. "Ready," he said.

 

* * *

 

“Well, that was something,” Raven drawled. Clarke and Bellamy elected to drive Monty and Wells home, and while Miller suspected both he and Raven would’ve been better suited for the activity, he was also grateful to get a little alone time in his space.

 

Miller scrubbed a hand over his face. “You’re telling me,” he said. “All things considered, though, I wouldn’t call it a complete disaster.” He glanced at her, hoping he hadn’t read her wrong earlier. “Right? You had fun, didn’t you?”

 

Raven gave him a fond smile. “Yeah, dumbass,” she said. “It was probably the best Thanksgiving I’ve had in years.”

 

It made Miller wonder like her other Thanksgivings had been like, but he had to admit-- it _had_ been a good Thanksgiving. “And I hope it’s not just because you made the acquaintance of a certain someone,” he said lightly.

 

“Oh, yeah, Clarke’s a fucking delight,” Raven said without missing a beat. “And Bellamy’s not bad, too.”

 

Miller leveled her with an unimpressed look. “Uh-huh,” he said flatly. “You know you could’ve gone home with him tonight, right? I’m surprised you didn’t.”

 

Raven shrugged. “Yeah,” she said dismissively. “Too full, though. The sex wouldn’t have been as good.”

 

It was a fair point, but he doubted that was really why, so Miller stayed quiet, not wanting to push.

 

Raven was too, for a moment, as they put dishes away and folded up extra chairs and vacuumed. Then, “I like him a lot,” she said quietly. “Like-- more than I should.”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“We talked, a little. I don’t know, we really hit it off, started talking about things I normally don’t. Like-- He has a Soulmate, too, and they’re not romantic. She’s gay, and Wells is bi, and they love each other, but not like that. They’re purely platonic. I know that that’s not unusual, or anything, but I don’t know anyone else whose Soulmate is only their friend.” She grimaced a little in apology. “Well, besides you, and we all know that’s not by choice.”

 

“True,” he grunted.

 

“Anyway-- I told him a little. About Finn. I didn’t mean to, I just--” she held her hands out, shrugging.

 

“Yeah,” Miller said with a rueful grin. “Wells Jaha has that effect.”

 

“Is he really just so _Good_?” Raven asked in disbelief.

 

Miller’s heart went out to her. There had never been many men in Raven’s life-- her father, Finn, and one other guy after him, Wick-- but they all had something in common: they all left her. She deserved someone good and steady and reliable. “Yeah,” he said. “He really is just that good.”

 

“I don’t want to start something with someone who lives across the country,” Raven backtracked quickly. “I’m too fucking old for that shit. I’m too tired. No matter how much I like him.”

 

“And you like him too much to just fuck him,” Miller deduced.

 

Raven sighed. “I’m still debating,” she said. “But I’m leaning towards yes right now.” She grimaced again. “Although that didn’t stop me from saying no when he asked me out for tomorrow.”

 

Miller went over to her and put his arm around her, pulling her down onto the couch with him. “Shit, Reyes,” he said.

 

She put her head on his shoulder and he put his head on hers, their thing. “I _know_ ,” she groaned. “What’s wrong with us? We’re falling for these super _nice_ people who’re just going to break our hearts.”

 

“I don’t think Wells would ever break anyone’s heart,” Miller said. “But I’ve resigned mine to its perpetual state of brokenness, yeah.”

 

Raven was quiet for a moment. “So you think you’re over Bryan?”  

 

“I think… I think I finally understand now what Bryan was talking about when he fell for his Soulmate so quickly,” Miller said slowly. “Like, I had only met Monty once and I cut it off right away, but I think if I hadn’t… I don’t know. I loved Bryan, and Bryan loved me, but the way I feel when I see Monty or spend time with him-- I’ve never felt that way before. It reminds me of you and Wells. It’s too much, too soon. I know that logically, but I can’t help it.”

 

“God,” Raven said. “We are _so fucked_.”

 

Miller couldn’t help but agree.

 

...Which was why it was almost ironically funny when, a couple days later while hanging out, Miller casually brought up Raven and Wells’ date to Monty and the latter started choking on his ice cream.

 

“Wh-what did you say?” He gasped as Miller thumped him on the back, getting concerned looks from the passerby as they strolled down 23rd street in Portland. “R-raven? With _Wells?_ ”

 

I mean, on paper they were two totally different people, but Miller didn’t think it was _that_ inconceivable. “You didn’t notice?” He asked. “They were basically flirting all of Thanksgiving.”

 

“I guess I was a little distracted,” Monty mumbled, his breathing regular again. “I guess-- I just thought…”

 

Miller waited, eyebrow raised.

 

“It seemed like you two hit it off,” he muttered.

 

Miller blinked. “Who?” He said. “Me and _Wells_ ?” He burst out laughing. “ _Jesus,_ Monty.” _How could he not see? He really had no fucking clue,_ Miller thought.

 

Monty blushed, embarrassed. “It’s not that far-fetched,” he protested. “It just seemed like… the way you guys interact and the way you talk about him…”

 

Miller looked at him, head cocked; Monty wouldn’t meet his eyes. Was Monty _jealous_? It seemed like too much to ask for. Miller would have to tread carefully here. “Don’t get me wrong,” Miller said slowly. “Wells would make a great boyfriend. He’s kind and hot and just-- awesome. But Wells and I aren’t compatible. We wouldn’t be good together. We just don’t… fit like that.”

 

Monty nodded. “Not like--not like you and Bryan.”

 

 _No. Not like you and me._  

 

Miller swallowed, a muscle in his jaw clenching briefly before he forced himself to relax. It was too soon, too much… as far as Monty knew, Miller _wasn’t_ over Bryan, and he was content with their friendship.

 

“Sure,” he said lightly, “like that.”

 

Monty was quiet for a moment again. “Have you spoken to him at all?” He asked. “Since you broke up?”

 

Miller shook his head. “Nah,” he said. “It’s easier this way. And I wouldn’t have anything to say to him, even if he wanted to talk.”

 

“You were together for nearly five years,” Monty said in disbelief. “And you’d have nothing to _say_?”

 

Miller shrugged. “ _I_ wouldn’t,” he said. “I’ve thought about it, and-- the only thing I’d even remotely want Bryan to do is apologize. To say he was wrong in how he treated me, that he regretted it. But even if he did, I wouldn’t take him back; those are just fantasies… my need for vindication. I don’t need his apologies. There’s nothing he has to say that would make me think better of him, or improve my life in some way.”

 

Monty looked at him suspiciously. “It sounds like you’ve over him,” he said slowly.

 

Miller didn’t want to get into it. He didn’t want Monty jumping to conclusions-- since that was something he _clearly_ did often-- and he didn’t want to talk about them; not today, on this perfect fall afternoon, coming off such a great Thanksgiving with some of his favorite people.

 

“Maybe,” was all he said, a mischievous little smirk lurking at his mouth.

 

Monty flicked him a confused look but said nothing, turning his attention back to his rapidly melting ice cream.

 

 _Good_ , Miller thought a little smugly as they walked along, hands occasionally brushing. He liked having Monty feel a little off-kilter every now and again. It seemed only fair, since that’s how Miller felt every moment he was around him.


	4. Chapter 4

> _ “You see it as a room, a tabernacle, the dark hotel. You’re in the hallway _
> 
> _ again, and you open the door, and if you’re ready you’ll see it, but _
> 
> _ maybe one part of your mind decides that the other parts aren’t ready, _
> 
> _ and then you don’t remember where you’ve been, and you find yourself _
> 
> _ down the hall again, the lights gone dim as the left hand sings the right _
> 
> _ hand back to sleep. It’s a puzzle: each piece, each room, each time you _
> 
> _ put your hand to the knob, your mouth to the hand, your ear to the _
> 
> _ wound that whispers. _
> 
>  
> 
> _ You’re in the hallway again. The radio is playing your favorite song. _
> 
> _ You’re in the hallway. Open the door again. Open the door.”  _
> 
> _ \-- Richard Siken,  _ **_You Are Jeff | Crush_ **

 

Miller groped for the knob to the little house, his hands shaking so badly it took him three times to get the key in. 

 

Normally he got home before Raven, who could spend hours tinkering on campus, but after he got the news he left his little hole of an office-- air, he needed  _ air _ \-- and collapsed on a bench near the quad, his head in his hands. He barely noticed the chill or when it got dark; he was just glad it was Friday, and he wouldn’t have to face society again for a couple days. 

 

Raven looked up as he stumbled through the door. “Hey,” she said with a grin, “Guess what--” she took in his haggard face, the slump of his shoulders, the bleakness in his stare. She stood. “Miller,” she said, coming towards him slowly, “what’s going on?” 

 

“I--” he couldn’t speak, everything was too warm suddenly, he couldn’t breathe, the clothes needed to be taken off, the heavy jacket, the scarf, the shoes, the wool socks. Raven came over, putting her hands over his. 

 

“Miller,” she said again. “What is it?” 

 

“It’s Bryan,” he rasped. “I just found out-- he’s dead.” 

 

* * *

 

Raven pried the story from him in parts as he methodically gathered up his clothing and shuffled into his room. 

 

It was an accident. Bryan was a police officer, and during an altercation with someone, his partner’s gun went off and hit Bryan. He made it to the hospital, was even conscious for a bit, but the internal bleeding was too much. He slipped into a coma, and then he died. 

 

“Miller--”   
  


“I don’t want to talk about it,” he interrupted her. “I’m-- I can’t.” 

 

“Okay,” she said, and he had never heard Raven sound so soft. “Do you need me-- can I do anything?” 

 

Miller shook his head. “I--” he clenched his fists, anger welling up in him. “No. Thank you.” 

 

Raven must’ve nodded but didn’t say anything else as Miller woodenly made his way to his room and shut the door. He dumped his clothes unceremoniously on the floor and collapsed, face down, on his bed. 

 

He wished he could sleep. He felt so numb inside it felt like sleep  _ must _ be inevitable, but it wasn’t. His mind was like one of those old home movies, shown on reels and screens, flickered, faded, sepia-tone memories of him and Bryan darting in and out-- of their first kiss, the first time they were together, of laughter and long drives, of Christmases and birthdays-- 

 

Miller didn’t know how much time had passed when he heard a knock on the door. He raised his head to tell Raven to go away, but when he opened his mouth to speak words couldn’t come. He put his head back down, but kept his face turned, as the door cracked open. 

 

“Nate?” 

 

_ She didn’t _ … 

 

She had. Standing in the doorway, hair disheveled, cheeks flushed with cold, the product of a call from Raven, was Monty. 

 

_ Don’t _ , he wanted to say, but his heart, the part of him he ignored so long ago when he first met Monty, said,  _ Come closer. Stay.  _

 

Miller said nothing, a stalemate. 

 

Monty crept closer, his dark eyes soft and sad, but he didn’t say a word. He slipped off his shoes and unzipped his coat, lining the shoes up neatly next to Miller’s nightstand and hanging the coat on a hook. He scooped up Miller’s discarded clothes and went to put them away, too. Miller was fastidiously neat otherwise, and Monty knew it, knew that the clutter would eventually bother him. 

 

When he was done, he came to stand by Miller’s bed. Neither of them said a word. 

 

Monty bent down, and looked searchingly into Miller’s eyes, and Miller just let him look, not bothering to filter his sorrow and his pain. Monty’s hand-- that slim hand and long, tapered fingers, the same one Miller noticed long ago in that bar-- came up and cupped Miller’s cheek. The emotion it elicited within Miller was so strong he had to close his eyes against the sensation. 

 

They continued to say nothing, and eventually Monty withdrew his hand. Miller opened his eyes, and saw that Monty wasn’t looking at him, a slight frown on his face. Ah, he was trying to figure out how to gracefully leave. Well, Miller would make it easy for him. He shifted for the first time since Monty entered and it startled the other man. Miller turned onto his side, his body away from Monty, a clear out. 

 

The lights went out, and Miller listened for the door to open and close. Instead, he heard soft footsteps pad back towards him, felt a blanket being thrown over him, felt the bed dip as Monty climbed in. 

 

Miller couldn’t believe it. He didn’t know if he should stay on his side or turn over and face Monty. The feeling in the room was-- not tense, but there was a sense of nervousness. Anticipation. They were crossing a threshold here, and while it wasn’t  _ romantic _ , per se, it was something else. Intimate. 

 

What Monty was doing, crossing this iline for Miller-- was unreal. It felt like a gift, and Miller didn’t want to make him uncomfortable, so he stayed turned away from him, keeping himself very still, until--

 

Monty’s arms came around him, tentative at first, but then his grip tightened. He curled himself around Miller’s body, tucking his face into the curve of Miller’s shoulder, his silky hair brushing against Miller’s neck. 

 

He said nothing-- asked no questions, no words of comfort, of empathy, of kindness. He just held on, anchoring Miller to something steady in the sea of his own pain. 

 

The tenderness of the act, this bolstering of strength, elicited such a response in Miller his body started to shake. Monty’s arms only tightened further, and Miller could hear him swallow, could tell how helpless he felt. 

 

But after a while the shudders subsided, and Miller stilled, even as the emotional floodgates opened and he could feel the tears start to slide down his face. There was no way to stop them; Miller didn’t even try. His hand came up and grasped onto one of Monty’s; Monty squeezed his hand and Miller squeezed back. 

 

They both fell asleep holding hands. 

 

The next time Miller opened his eyes, ribbons of sunlight were filtering in through his blinds. He was facing Monty now, whose arms weren’t around him any longer, but both of Miller’s hands were held in Monty’s, stretched out as Monty cradled them to his heart, Monty’s thumb pressed on Miller’s wrist, the crescent moon of his Mark. Under the blanket, their legs were tangled together, the softness of Monty’s sweats contrasting against the rougher feel of Miller’s jeans. 

 

Monty was still asleep, and Miller let his eyes rove over Monty’s face, all too aware that this could be the only time he ever got to wake up to Monty. The ache it created was almost visceral, because Miller wasn’t stupid; Monty came over last night and stayed as a kindness, not as a declaration of feelings. Things would go back to the way they were before last night, before Bryan-- 

 

Monty’s eyes fluttered open and Miller’s thoughts halted. Monty smiled sleepily at him for a heart-stopping second, before he seemed to remember why he was there, and his mouth curled down. 

 

He didn’t speak, eyes still watching Miller instead, who cleared his throat. The words could come this morning, safe in this cocoon he and Monty created together, wrapped up in blankets and sunlight. 

 

“I’m not in love with Bryan anymore,” Miller said and he was unsure why he decided to start there, but that seemed the most important part. “I haven’t been for a while, and I don’t know… I don’t know if this makes me feel better or worse-- the fact that I didn’t love him anymore when he died.” 

 

Monty’s eyes were wide and startled, but he remained quiet. 

 

“I-- do you know how I found out he died? His Soulmate, some guy named Sterling, called me. He told me… he told me that before he lost consciousness, Bryan said my name. Just my name. And Sterling, he… he didn’t have to call me. I know it was painful for him, and especially-- I learned that they had gotten  _ married _ . Bryan was his  _ husband.  _ I can’t even imagine… Sterling thought Bryan still loved me and that’s why he said it, and what do I even say to that besides denying it, even if I have no clue what Bryan thought or felt. So here I learned that a guy who I once thought I was going to spend the rest of my life with was dead, and  _ I  _ was trying to console his husband, and all the while I felt guilty that I didn’t love him anymore. 

 

“And I feel so tired and sad, but Monty… in so many ways, Bryan’s been dead to me for a while. He’s been completely out of my life for months now. I feel guilty that I don’t feel  _ more _ . And he said my name…” 

 

“Nate,” Monty said softly, the first word he spoke in hours. “You can’t think like that. You said it yourself, you have no clue what Bryan thought or felt in general. Who knows why Bryan said your name? Maybe he was hallucinating. Maybe he was remorseful about how things ended. You shouldn’t-- I’m so sorry Sterling put that burden on you. It’s not yours to bear.

 

“And you shouldn’t feel guilty that you don’t love him anymore. You didn’t--  _ he _ left  _ you _ . You’ve both moved on, and you shouldn’t feel bad about that. But I’m sorry that you’re hurting. Maybe you’re not in love with Bryan anymore, but you still… there’s still that person inside of you who was once Bryan’s Boyfriend, and that part of you still loves the part of him that was Miller’s Boyfriend. Does that make sense? It makes you who you are. It’s okay to mourn his death, even if you lost him a long time ago. And it’s okay to not-- to not feel as much as you should, or as much as you once would’ve.” 

 

Miller was quiet for a while, absorbing what Monty said, thinking about it, about whether or not he was right, especially about the part where Monty said some part of him still loved Bryan. At first, Miller was angry, thinking Monty said it as a means of self-preservation, that he didn’t believe Miller when Miller said he didn’t love Bryan anymore. 

 

But then, like a flash, Miller remembered a quote he once read:  _ Think how you love me. I don’t ask you to love me always like this, but I ask you to remember. Somewhere inside me there’ll always be the person I am tonight.  _

 

And he understood. 

 

One of his most vivid memories of Bryan was when they went on a road trip to outside the city limits on fall afternoon; Bryan wanted to go apple-picking. They were driving back and Bryan had rolled down the windows, letting the golden sun flood in and the wind ruffle his hair. He looked over at Miller, his smile bright, and that’s when Miller knew he loved him. 

 

Every time he thought about it, it was like he was transported back. He remembered which shirt he wore, the warmth of the sun on his face, the smell of apples and nature, the way he felt. That person was still inside him, even if he wasn’t that person completely anymore. That’s what Monty meant. Hell, that’s what Fitzgerald meant with that quote. The people you loved lived on inside of you, through who you used to be when you loved them. 

 

Miller looked over at Monty. “Hey, Monty? Thanks for… thanks for being here.” 

 

Monty smiled, his expression soft. “Of course,” he said. “Any time.” 

 

Neither of them noticed they were still holding hands. 

 

* * *

 

“Guess what?” Was the first thing Monty greeted him with as Miller came into the crowded restaurant. It had been a couple weeks since he had spent the night at Miller and Raven’s apartment, and, as Miller had thought would happen, nothing changed.

 

_ “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” Raven had said in disbelief when Miller told her what had gone down. “He’s-- Miller, he  _ loves  _ you!”  _

 

_ Miller shook his head. “He does love me,” Miller said. “But he’s not  _ in _ love with me.”   _

 

_ “That’s such bullshit,” Raven said. “He’s being stubborn, Miller, and you shouldn’t have to suffer because he was wrong about you.”  _

 

_ “Raven…” Miller sighed. “It’s not happening, okay?”  _

 

_ Raven gave him a look, but didn’t push it. “Don’t give up hope,” is all she said. “You’ve been punishing yourself for months now, and you can stop now.”  _

 

“What?” Miller asked, taking in the big grin stretched across Monty’s face. Monty was a happy guy in general, but tonight he looked  _ thrilled _ . 

 

“Jasper’s seeing someone!” Monty said gleefully. “And like, I think it could go somewhere.” 

 

Miller blinked. “Wait, really?” He asked in disbelief. He’d only seen Jasper a couple times since the disastrous Thanksgiving-- to the other man’s credit, he called both Monty and Miller immediately after and apologized profusely for what happened.

 

(Miller’s response: “Whatever, man. Honestly, I don’t care at all. It’s Monty you should be apologizing to.” 

 

Jasper was quiet. “I know,” he said. “I already did, and… I know you think I’m a shitty friend, and I  _ am _ . I want to be better.”

 

“Then be better,” Miller said simply.) 

 

“Yeah,” Monty said. “And I might meet her soon!”

 

“You haven’t already?” Miller asked. 

 

“Jasper just told me about her,” Monty said, shrugging. “I don’t know, I guess he didn’t want to jinx it or something.” 

 

“Well…” Miller shifted in his seat as the waiter came and took their orders. When he left he said, “Good for him.” 

 

“Yeah,” Monty said. “I really hope this works out.” 

 

“Me, too,” Miller said. For Monty’s sake as much as Jasper’s. And he really didn’t care much at all, but he asked, “What do you know about her?” 

 

“Her name’s Maya,” Monty said. “She… had a Soulmate, who died. She didn’t know him very well when he did, but she’s had a tough time, too. She gets what Jasper’s going through. She just finished medical school. She wants to have her own practice, be a family doctor.”

 

“That’s awesome,” Miller said genuinely. “How’d they meet?” 

 

“You know Jasper wanted to adopt a cat, right? I told you that last time? Well, he and Maya met at the shelter.” 

 

Miller smirked. “What is this, a rom-com?” He said. 

 

“It’s pretty freaking cute,” Monty admitted, a little grin on his face. “What should their movie be called, you think--?”

 

“Professor Miller?” 

 

Miller looked up; one of the students from his freshman comp class was there with who looked to be her parents. “Amy,” Miller said. “Hey. Hi.” It was cute; he wasn’t even technically a professor yet, but his students still insisted on calling him ‘professor.’ 

 

“Hi,” Amy giggled. “Sorry I’m interrupting your dinner,” she threw a smile to Monty, who smiled back, “but I just wanted to say hi.” She turned to her parents. “Professor Miller’s class is my favorite.”

 

“So we’ve heard,” her mother said fondly, partly to her daughter, and partly for Miller and Monty. “And she’s never enjoyed English,” she said solely to Miller. “You must be a great professor.” 

 

“The best,” Monty piped in cheerfully, even though he had never seen Miller teach. The blatant loyalty tugged a smile at Miller’s lips.

 

“Amy’s a great student,” he told them. “She’s become a great writer. Her last essay on the feminist aspects of  _ Jane Eyre _ was fantastic.” Amy beamed. 

 

“Well, we’ll get back to your dinner with your boyfriend,” Amy’s father said kindly. “It was nice to meet you, though.” 

 

Miller’s cheeks burned and he couldn’t look at Monty. “You as well.” 

 

“Have a great night!” Monty said. 

 

Miller blinked; he didn’t deny it. Well, he supposed it could’ve been awkward to deny it in front of them, so he finally chanced a look at Monty, who looked perfectly content as he tucked into his dinner. “Sorry about that,” he said awkwardly.

 

Monty blinked at him. “About what?” 

 

“The, uh-- Amy.” 

 

“Oh!” Monty smiled. “It was really cute, honestly. Nothing to be sorry about at all.” 

 

Miller swallowed. “I’m, uh, sorry that they assumed…” 

 

“Oh, that we were on a date?” Monty asked.  _ No, dating,  _ thought Miller.  _ Together. In a relationship. Committed.  _ “It’s fine. I mean, it wasn’t an unreasonable one. Don’t worry about it, Nate.” 

 

Obviously, Miller worried. 

 

He meant what he said to Raven-- he didn’t want to push Monty in any way, even if he knew now for sure that he wanted to be in a relationship with him, and not because Monty was his Soulmate. Most days he even _ forgot _ that Monty was his Soulmate; he was just… Monty. The man Miller wanted to be with, that he would be with whether or not a Mark told him so. 

 

And there were so many aspects of their friendship that were veering into that murky, anticipation stage-- they texted all the time; made plans to see each other a couple times a week (even if they had to each drive at least half an hour to meet); told each other good morning and good night… it gave Miller a fluttery feeling in his stomach, but he had to keep tamping down on it. This wasn’t like other relationships; no matter the signs, no matter what Miller wanted; the other party didn’t want the same. He had to keep remembering that. 

 

The rest of dinner passed by smoothly enough to the point where Miller relaxed. Monty was fine; they were fine. It wasn’t until the end of the night when they were going their separate ways, standing by Monty’s car, that things changed again. 

  
  
Monty turned to Miller, his hand rubbing the back of his neck, a sheepish smile on his face. “I know I insisted that we not get each other anything for Christmas…”    


  
Miller felt the blood drain from his face. “Monty,  _ no _ ,” he said in horror. When Monty said no gifts, that he  _ meant _ it, Miller, despite his better judgment, decided to honor Monty’s wishes and not get him anything. He never thought that Monty would be one of those people who said no gifts and then went and bought them anyway.    


  
“I—“ Monty winced. “I  _ know _ , I’m the worst, I’m sorry.”    


  
Miller sighed. Well, he knew what he was going to be doing tomorrow. “All right, Green,” he said, in a long-suffering voice. “Let’s see it.”    


  
Monty’s cheeks flushed and Miller blinked. Was Monty… nervous? “Okay,” he said. “Um, if you don’t like it, it’s okay, honest. Really, it’s—”   


  
“Monty,” Miller said gently. “What is it?”    


  
Monty turned around and rummaged in his car before emerging. He hid it behind his back for a moment, biting his lip, before slowly bringing it around. He held it out to Miller.   


  
It wasn’t wrapped; in the dark, it looked like a piece of cloth, maybe… a scarf? It looked knitted. Miller took it, his fingers brushing Monty’s, and unfolded it.    


  
It was a beanie.    


  
Miller blinked and raised his gaze to Monty. “What..?”    
  


“Remember at Thanksgiving when Wells and Clarke pulled up all those pictures from high school?” Monty asked. “And in every picture was you, scowling, beardless, and—“   
  
“Wearing a beanie,” Miller finished. He was obsessed with that beanie; his mom had originally given it to him when he was much younger. It was too big for him, and he didn’t like hats, so he stuffed it in a drawer and didn’t think of it until a few years later, after she had gotten sick and died, and he had discovered it while he was cleaning. He was obsessed with it ever since, wearing it all the time. His friends thought it was a fashion phase; Miller never told them, but he liked it because he felt close to his mother.    
  
The beanie lasted five years before it finally became so worn and holey that Miller couldn’t wear it anymore. He still had it, somewhere, couldn’t bear to throw it out, and was debating what to do about it, but he hadn’t replaced it. “Monty…”   
  
“It’s okay if you don’t like it!” Monty said hastily. “I… I’ve never knitted a beanie before. Scarves and socks and stuff, but nothing like a hat. It’s my first try. If you never wear it I won’t be offended.”    
  
It was a wool grey color, and soft; it was evident Monty went and got nice material for it.    
  
“I love it,” Miller said hoarsely, running his hands over it. Monty watched him do so for a moment. “Thank you, Monty. This is… this is incredible.”    
  
“I didn’t think I’d have it ready in time for Christmas,” Monty said sheepishly. “That’s why I said no gifts to begin with. And I could’ve waited for your birthday, but that’s not until the spring, and… I wanted you to have the option to use it. If you wanted.”    
  
“I…” there were no words. He looked at Monty and his fingers twitched. What would happen if he said,  _ fuck it _ , and he stuffed the beanie in his coat pocket so he could curl one around Monty’s neck, fingers splayed across his cheek, and then slide the other one down his side and grip his hip so he could pull Monty to him, so he could let his eyes flutter closed, so he could finally,  _ finally  _ kiss him, the way he’d wanted to for weeks now?    
  


He would finally have all of the answers to the questions that he had had for weeks now-- what Monty’s hair felt like gripped beneath his fingertips; what he would taste like; what sounds he would make when Miller kissed him… 

 

Miller hesitated for a moment, and then decided if he couldn’t be honest about  _ that, _ he could be honest about something else. “This was the best thing you could’ve given me, Monty,” he said. 

 

Monty’s eyes widened. “Really?” 

 

“Yeah,” Miller licked his lips. “My old beanie… I wore it so much because my mom got it for me. It’s too old for me to wear anymore, so this… this was great.” 

 

Monty kept looking at him with wide eyes, and Miller was starting to regret being so vulnerable when Monty said, quietly, “Thank you. For telling me that.” 

 

Miller relaxed. “Well, thanks for the beanie.” 

 

“You’re welcome,” Monty said. They stood there for a moment and Miller had to shove his hands in his pockets to keep from reaching out to Monty. “You fly out tomorrow?” 

 

“Yeah,” Miller said. It was one of the few nice things about being a teacher: having the same breaks as the students. It was only the third week into December, and Miller was going to go see his dad in D.C. for nearly a month: as much as he wanted to hang out in Portland with Monty and Raven, he hadn’t seen his dad in ages, and he missed him. 

 

“And, um, when will you be back?” 

 

“Why?” Miller smirked. “You gonna miss me, Green?” 

 

To his surprise, and pleasure, Monty flushed. “Maybe a little,” he said. He looked at Miller from under his fringe with a little grin. “Not as much as you’ll miss me.” 

 

Miller shrugged his shoulders a little bit. “True,” he said. 

 

Monty blinked at the sincerity in Miller’s voice. “Oh.” 

 

He looked so cute, so Monty, that Miller couldn’t help it-- he stepped closer and wrapped Monty up in a hug. It wasn’t a kiss, but it was something. 

 

Monty’s body froze in surprise, but then his arms came around Miller as well, tucking his face into the curve of Miller’s shoulder. Miller couldn’t help but shut his eyes and hold Monty a little tighter. Who was he kidding? He couldn’t deny it anymore; he loved Monty, more than he’d ever loved anyone. 

 

And he didn’t a stupid tattoo on his arm to tell him that; he didn’t need the universe to tell him that this man was his perfect match: he knew it in the way Monty could always make him laugh instead of scowl; he knew it in the way he always knew where Monty was in a room; he knew it like how he knew all of Monty’s facial expressions and what each one meant, how they conveyed thoughts and feelings he would never say out loud; he knew it like how he knew how Monty took his tea and how Monty knew how he took his coffee; he knew it in the way that Monty fit so well in his arms, in his bed, in his life. 

 

He felt lit up inside, like a thousand Christmas lights were inside of him, and part of him wanted to tell Monty how he felt so badly, but he knew it wasn’t the right time, that it might never be. But for some reason, he had hope now, that Monty maybe one day would come to love him the same way he loved Monty. 

 

It was almost a new year; anything was possible. 

 

So instead of saying  _ I love you _ , he murmured, “Merry Christmas, Monty,” and he knew he didn’t imagine it when Monty tightened his arms around him, too, and whispered, “Merry Christmas, Nate,” back. 

 

* * *

 

The call came a week into the new year, at the ungodly hour of 3 A.M. 

 

Luckily for the caller, Miller rarely turned his phone off at night; he used his phone as an alarm and a way to track his sleep patterns, so he heard it vibrating loudly on his nightstand, rattling the keys and books that were next to it. 

 

“Holy  _ fuck, _ ” he swore, fumbling for the dancing phone. He saw it was Jasper and wondered if he and Monty were drunk dialing him, but decided to answer anyway. Although he and Monty had been texting for the last week, neither of them called each other, and Miller missed the sound of Monty’s voice. Maybe, somehow, he would hear it tonight. “Hey.” 

 

“Miller?” At the frantic tone of Jasper’s voice, Miller instantly sat up, reaching for the light.

 

“Jasper,” Miller said, his heart starting to pound. “What’s wrong?” 

 

_ Please don’t let it be Monty, please don’t let it be Monty….  _

 

“It’s--” Jasper took a deep, rattling breath, like he was trying not to hyperventilate. “It’s Monty’s mom. She’s been in a bad accident, and we don’t know if she’s going to make it. Are you… are you back yet from the east coast?” 

 

“No,” Miller said, trying to get his heart rate down. “Jasper, how’s Monty? Where is he?” 

 

“He’s,” Jasper let out his breath, wetly, like he had been crying. “Miller, I haven’t seen him like this since his dad died. He’s a wreck, he’s-- we’re both here at the hospital, and he told me not to call you, but I know you’d want to know, and I think… I think he  _ needs _ you. He needs both of us.” 

 

Miller had his phone jammed between his ear and his shoulder, hopping around, trying to pull on clothes and stuff his toiletries into his suitcase at the same time. “You were right to call me,” he said firmly. “Thank you for-- thank you for doing that. I’m going to try and be there as soon as I can, okay? I’ll get a flight and buy wi-fi so you can keep me updated.” 

 

“I can help pay for a ticket if it’s expensive to change it,” Jasper offered. “I-- I know it’s really inconvenient and last-minute…” 

 

Miller appreciated the gesture. Jasper wasn’t so bad a guy. “Don’t worry about it,” he said. “I always get insurance on my flight tickets just in case something happens. It shouldn’t be too much trouble, and my dad will understand.” 

 

“If you’re sure,” Jasper said. “Let me know if you change your mind. In the meantime, I’ll keep you posted. Should I tell Monty you’re coming?” 

 

Miller shook his head. “No,” he said. “He’s got enough to worry about. He’d only feel guilty.” 

 

“Yeah, that sounds about right,” Jasper agreed. “See you soon.” 

 

“Bye,” Miller hung up the phone, zipping his suitcase shut. He hefted it off his bed and looked up; standing in the doorway was his father. “Hey, Dad.” 

 

“Hey,” David said, taking in his disheveled son and his suitcase on the bed. “I heard you banging around in here, and… is everything okay? Is it Monty?” 

 

“Sort of,” Miller swallowed. He and his dad talked fairly regularly, although neither of them were men of a lot of words, so usually what ended up happening is that Miller would come visit, both of them would get drunk, and  _ then _ they would have a heart-to-heart. Needless to say, their father-son relationship improved a lot after Miller turned 21. 

 

It was when they were each three beers in that Miller told his dad everything that had been going on with Monty. David had known a little bit here and there, and he and Miller had spoken a little bit when they each flew into Boston to go to Bryan’s funeral (they snuck in the back of the church right before it started, didn’t go to the after reception, and left a card for Sterling and Bryan’s parents. It was the most Miller was up for;) but at Christmas Miller told him just how deep he was in. 

 

“Sort of?” David asked. He wasn’t sure how he felt about what Miller had told him concerning Monty, was worried that Miller was going to have his heart broken again, but he knew that the best way to go about this was just to support him in whatever he decided. 

 

What he  _ really _ wanted to do was meet this Monty Green, but he didn’t know when that would happen. 

 

“His mom was in a really bad accident,” Miller said. “A car accident. It was the same way his dad died. He’s-- he’s not doing well.” 

 

David looked over to the suitcase. “And I guess you’re going to him.” 

 

Miller shifted on his feet, but didn’t break eye contact. “Yeah, I-- I hope that’s okay.” 

 

David nodded. “Of course,” he said. “Monty is important to you, and you want to be there for him.” He paused. “Do you want me to come with you?” 

 

Miller blinked. “What?” 

 

“Do you want me to come with you?” David said. “I know how much… I know you don’t like hospitals so much, either.” 

 

“Really?” Miller said. “You would do that?” 

 

David shrugged. “Monty is important to you; you’re important to me. It’s a no-brainer.” 

 

Miller bit his lip, coming over to hug his dad, who held him tightly as well. “Thanks, Dad.” 

 

“Of course. I love you, Nate.” 

 

“I love you, too.” 

 

Things happened rather quickly after that-- David went and got a bag together while Miller got them tickets on the next direct flight out to Portland (not an easy feat, considering there weren’t that many direct flights between the two cities to begin with,) and they were at the airport within the hour. 

 

Jasper only texted a few times-- they were taking Monty’s mom into surgery, which would take a few hours, and hopefully by the time Miller landed she would be out. Monty had been at the hospital for several hours and wouldn’t do anything-- wouldn’t sleep, wouldn’t leave, wouldn’t eat, wouldn’t do anything but guzzle coffee and pace. 

 

Miller did nothing on the six hour flight but worry. 

 

He and David made a game plan as they landed; Miller would go straight to the hospital in one Uber and David would go to Miller’s house in another to pick up Miller’s car and then drive to the hospital. 

 

Miller’s hand gripped the handle of the car door tightly, the other clutching his phone. He told Jasper he’d be there in five minutes, and all he got back was:  _ Good. _

 

He wasn’t hoping for the best. 

 

It was almost ten a.m. when Miller made it to the hospital, following the instructions Jasper texted him for how to get to Hannah Green’s room. She had made it out of surgery, but was still in critical condition-- how the next 24 hours played out would be crucial in her recovery. 

 

Miller rounded a corner, and saw Monty, pale, shaking, pacing up and down a section of the hallway, head down, hands clenched. 

 

“Monty,” Miller said, lowly, not wanting to startle him. 

 

Monty paused, looked up in shock. “Nate?” He said, his voice cracking. 

 

Miller walked quickly toward him, his mouth opening to say he was sorry, but closed it as Monty threw his arms around him, holding him tightly. Miller wrapped his arms around him, saying nothing, just holding on. 


	5. Chapter 5

>   _“You’re in a car with a beautiful boy, and he won’t tell you that he loves_
> 
> _you, but he loves you. And you feel like you’ve done something terrible,_
> 
> _like robbed a liquor store, or swallowed pills, or shoveled yourself_
> 
> _a grave in the dirt, and you’re tired. You’re in a car with a beautiful boy,_
> 
> _and you’re trying not to tell him that you love him, and you’re trying to_
> 
> _choke down the feeling, and you’re trembling, but he reaches over and_
> 
> _he touches you, like a prayer for which no words exist, and you feel your_
> 
> _heart taking root in your body, like you’ve discovered something you_
> 
> _don’t even have a name for.”_ _\-- Richard Siken,_ **_You Are Jeff | Crush_ **

 

Monty wouldn’t let go of Miller’s hand.

 

Even when they broke apart at the sound of Jasper’s footsteps, coming back with coffee from the cafeteria, Monty still kept a hand on Miller’s arm, right where his Mark was. Miller grasped it with his other hand, and Monty tensed, but instead of dislodging it, Miller slid it down his arm and to his hand, where Monty’s fingers fumbled for Miller’s and he held on tight.

 

Miller had to give Jasper a lot of credit-- he had stayed with Monty the entire time in the hospital, and it showed. Miller sent him home to get some sleep, and then get some fresh clothes for Monty, who refused to leave the hospital. Jasper may have let Monty down when his dad died, but he seemed determined not to fuck it up when Monty needed him again.

 

When they were alone, Miller convinced Monty to sit in a chair, although his leg kept bouncing, a side effect of all the caffeine.

 

Miller kept quiet, stifling the urge to fidget. He _hated_ hospitals, had hated them since he was a kid and his mom got sick-- he spent so many hours, so many afternoons, coming with his mother to her chemo and radiation therapy appointments, doing his homework there, watching his tired, battered mother fight to beat her disease, only to watch her slowly wither away.

 

But this wasn’t about him; it was about Monty. He told Monty he would always be there for him, and he meant it.

 

He had texted his dad a couple times, who would show up in a little bit. He hadn’t told Monty that David was here, and would wait until things settled a little more before bringing it up. Until then, David was on call, at the little house with Raven, and would come when Miller said he could. Otherwise, Miller and Monty still said nothing to each other, and Miller was fine with that. He knew Monty; he would speak when he was ready.

 

The squeezing of Miller’s hand was his indication that Monty was ready to talk.

 

“She-- the doctors think she had a seizure or something,” Monty said slowly, his voice flat and robotic. He stared straight ahead, not looking at Miller beside him. “That’s what caused her to crash. Luckily no one else was hurt. But they… they did tests on her and you know what they found? She had brain damage, from the car crash she was in with my dad.” He swallowed. “I don’t know… I don’t remember why she wasn’t checked out properly during that crash. Maybe because things were so chaotic? Or she refused to be? But it affected her frontal lobe, and I don’t know how much you know about that, but--”

 

“It affected her personality,” Miller murmured. He had been friends with Bellamy “Let’s watch documentaries for fun” Blake and Clarke “Fine, but we’re alternating history ones with medical ones” Griffin to have seen a few on the human brain. “Is that why…?”

 

“Why she became so unlike herself over the past couple of years? Why she’s become someone I didn’t even recognize?” Monty’s voice began to climb in tone and sound. “I should’ve known! I should’ve-- she’s my _mother_ , and I gave up on her. I didn’t even realize she was _sick_.” His voice cracked on the last word, and he let go of Miller’s hand to cover his face, his elbows on his knees, hunched over like he was caving in on himself.

 

“Monty,” Miller nearly leapt out of his seat as he came around and crouched in front of Monty, his hands coming up to lightly encircle Monty’s wrists. He made no move to urge Monty’s hands away from his face, but he wanted him to know he was here. “You can’t blame yourself for this. You can’t. You were grieving, too. You can’t-- you can’t take care of everyone, Monty.”

 

Monty stiffened, and as Miller said the words, he realized how true they were.

 

“Jasper, your mother… you tried so hard, didn’t you? To take care of them, even as you were falling apart. You did the best you could, I know you did, but you can’t save everyone, Monty. You have to-- sometimes the best thing to do is save yourself, first.”

 

Monty shook his head. “Nate, I--”

 

Miller pushed on, “It’s like in those airplane safety brochures! Help yourself breathe first before you help someone else. Monty…”

 

This time Monty cut him off. “Plane-- Nate! You, you just… you had another week left in DC, didn’t you? You’re not supposed to be back yet!”

 

Miller gave him a look before he answered, a _I know you’re changing the subject_ look, but he answered him anyway. “You needed me,” Miller said firmly. “Of course I came back. And my dad doesn’t mind at all.”

 

Monty took a deep, shuddering breath. “Are you sure?” He said. “I’m sure he wasn’t happy to--”

 

“To what?” Miller snorted. “Have a convenient excuse to come insinuate himself into his son’s life, see where he lives and works and meet his new roommate and his S-- meet _you?_  My dad’s ecstatic.”

 

Monty frowned. “I don’t…”

 

Miller blinked. “Oh,” he said. “Sorry, I forgot I didn’t tell you. My dad came with me.”

 

Monty gaped at him. “What?”

 

“My dad’s at the house now. He’s going to drive my car back with anything we need. Are you hungry? He can go pick up food and grab Jasper along the way or something.”

 

“I don’t--” Monty shook his head, looking at Miller with tearful, grateful eyes. “What did I ever do to deserve you?”

 

Miller couldn’t help it; he leaned it and pressed a kiss on Monty’s cheek. “You didn’t need to do anything,” he said. _I’m yours._

 

Miller leaned back and looked at Monty. “Your mom’s going to get through this,” he said seriously. He almost didn’t say it; people told him that all the time when his mom was sick, even up until the very end, and Miller hated them for promising things they couldn’t guarantee; but he knew, somehow, that this was an exception. “Your mom’s going to get better, and get the help she needs and you two will fix your relationship. Okay?”

 

Monty gave him a small, lopsided smile, one that Miller had always adored. “Okay,” he said softly. He looked at Miller for a moment, considering him. “You’re pretty good at this, you know,” he remarked.

 

“Good at what?” Miller asked.

 

“Taking care of people,” said Monty.

 

“I’m not the caretaker type,” Miller brushed it off. “That’s you, remember?”

 

“We take care of each other,” Monty corrected, and Miller couldn’t argue with that.

 

“Yeah,” he said softly. “We do.” He looked down; Monty was still holding his hand, his thumb on Miller’s pulsepoint.

 

Monty looked down, too, and his eyes widened. The long sleeve of his sweatshirt had ridden up and his beginnings of his Marks were visible.

 

Monty had never seen them before; this wasn’t an accident. Luckily, Oregon had cool fall’s and cooler winter’s, so Miller could get away with always wearing sweatshirts or long sleeves around Monty, even if he preferred to roll them, especially his button-ups, to his below his elbows.

 

Miller didn’t want to be reminded of the Marks-- he looked at them as little as possible, usually only when he was drunk or tired or sad-- and he didn’t want Monty to have to look at them, either. He still didn’t know where Monty’s Marks were, and the other man never said. Neither of them needed to be reminded of it.

 

Although today, it seemed, Monty wanted to be.

 

His fingers traced that crescent moon that began and ended everything, his fingers trailing up Miller’s arm before he suddenly flinched back, as though out of a daze, looking at Miller with wide eyes. “I’m sorry, I--”

 

Miller shook his head. “Don’t be,” he said gruffly.

 

Monty paused. Then, “May I?” He asked, indicating Miller’s sleeve.

 

Miller nodded.

 

Monty used both to gently roll up Miller’s sleeve, and Miller felt like he was holding his breath as Monty revealed his Mark.

 

The longer he was in love with Monty, the more his Mark grew; when they first met it only crawled up his forearm, but now it wrapped around his bicep, climbing up his entire arm, ending at his shoulder. Monty only rolled the sleeve up to his elbow, his fingers brushing his arm as he went. Miller hoped he couldn’t feel or see the goosebumps popping up.

 

Monty traced the patterns of leaves and vines wordlessly, his eyes squinting as he tried to read the words that they were made out of. Early on in their friendship the words were illegible, but Miller could make some of them out now, and realized they were all things he and Monty had said to each other:

 

_I’m glad we met._

 

_I’m not going to hurt you._

 

_You’re not going anywhere._

 

_You’re not alone anymore._

 

_You have me; you’ll always have me._

 

_Thanks for being here._

 

_This was the best thing you could’ve given me._

 

_Thank you for telling me that._

 

_What did I do to deserve you?_

 

_You needed me; of course I came back._

 

_We take care of each other._

 

Miller hadn’t looked at his Mark for a while, and seeing the words now-- having both he and Monty read them at the same time-- made his throat close up.

 

They loved each other. Even if Monty never loved him the way Miller wanted him to, Miller knew that Monty loved him, and that that would have to be enough.

 

Monty stayed silent as he continued to touch him, and Miller’s throat burned with questions he wanted to ask: _Where’s your Mark? Do you ever look at it? Do you ever think of me?_

 

They stayed like that, in their own little bubble, as nurses and doctors and patients and family members all walked by them, a moment of solace. No matter what kind of agony it inspired in Miller, he would give that to Monty.

 

As he said earlier, they took care of each other. It was the least he could do.

 

* * *

 

Monty was talking to the doctors in his mother’s room when Miller’s dad got there. Miller hadn’t expected to see him until later, although to be fair, he didn’t really know what time it was. Time had no meaning anymore.

 

“Dad,” Miller said in surprise, seeing David striding down the hall, a large take out bag in one hand and a coffee platter in another. “Hey.”

 

“Hey, Nate,” David said, sitting down next to him. Miller instantly relaxed a little; no matter how old he got, it seemed, having his dad around made him feel better. He looked at the room in front of him. “Monty in there?”

 

Miller nodded. “The doctors are briefing him on his mom’s condition. I think she’s doing okay, though. I hope so.”

 

David nodded. “Raven’s coming, too,” he said. “I like her a lot.”

 

“I knew you would,” Miller said with a slight smile. “And Jasper?”

 

“He’s parking the car,” David said. “He has Monty’s stuff. I like him, too. I know you said things have been up and down with him and Monty…”

 

“They have,” Miller said, “but he’s really stepped up tonight. And he’s getting his shit together. He has a girlfriend now, who I think is helping.”

 

“He was on the phone with her for a bit,” David said. “He said she’s a nurse, and she was offering to come here if we needed anything, which was nice.”

 

“That is nice,” Miller said. “I haven’t met her yet, but she sounds great.” He looked at the door. “He’s nervous,” he said offhandedly. “About meeting you.”

 

David looked amused. “Why?” He said. “You’re not in a relationship, right? It’s not like he’s your boyfriend or your fiancé. He’s not about to be my son-in-law or anything.”

 

Miller huffed. “Well,” he said, “I’m sure _he_ knows that, but just so we’re clear, he’s the only chance at a son-in-law you’ll ever get.”

 

David’s eyes flickered behind Miller and he looked like he was trying not to laugh. “I figured,” he said.

 

A throat cleared behind Miller.

 

“Hi,” said Monty.

 

Miller turned around. “Hi,” he said, hoping the flush he felt wasn’t obvious. “How’s your mom?”

 

“The doctors think she’s out of danger,” Monty said, “but they don’t know what she’ll be like when she wakes up.”

 

“That’s…” Miller paused. “That’s good, though. To start with.”

 

“Yeah,” Monty said, a tired, strained smile flickering his lips. “It’s a start.” He looked at Miller’s dad, and came forward, hand outstretched. “You must be Mr. Miller,” he said. “It’s nice to finally meet you. I’m Monty Green.”

 

“Hello, Monty,” David said gently, shaking his hand. “I’m sorry the circumstances aren’t better, but I’m glad to meet you, too. You can call me David,” he flashed a look at Miller. “I’m sure it’ll be less confusing for you, between calling him Miller, too.”

 

Monty blinked. “Oh,” he said. “No, not at all. I don’t call him Miller, anyway. I call him Nate.”

 

Miller didn’t dare look at his father for the surprised look he was sure he wore.

 

 _It can’t be much of a surprise_ , Miller grumbled internally. _He knows I’m in love with Monty._

 

Still. Even Bryan didn’t call Miller Nate; only Nathan. It was a preference thing on Bryan’s part, but only Miller’s parents called him Nate.

 

Until Monty.

 

“Well, you can call me whatever you’d like,” David said. “I’m glad your mother is doing better. If there’s anything I can do, let me know.”

 

Monty relaxed a little. “I really appreciate you being here,” he said genuinely. “Really. For coming all the way out here for someone you don’t even know--”

 

David shrugged. “As I told Nate,” he said, “you’re important to him, and he’s important to me. It just made sense.”

 

Both Miller and Monty flushed a little.

 

“Hungry?” David said, holding up the bag. “And I brought hot drinks. Nate said you liked tea over coffee, and Starbucks had multiple kinds of green tea, so I brought them all.”

 

“Thank you,” Monty said. “That was really kind of you.”

 

“Don’t mention it,” David fixed Monty with a serious, paternal look. “You’re not in this on your own, okay? We’re here for you, for as long as you need us.”

 

Monty’s face twisted with emotion, but he was saved from responding by Jasper bounding up, pulling Monty in for a hug. “He’s right,” Jasper murmured. “I wasn’t there for you before, but I am now. We all are.”

 

Slowly, Hannah Green recovered. It was a long, hard process for everyone, especially Monty, especially in the beginning, when they were trying to figure out medication regimens and neurological and psychological appointments, but it helped having David there in the beginning. Even if the cases between his wife’s and Hannah’s were completely dissimilar, he remembered the sheer amount of paperwork and the different types of doctors they needed to speak with, and helped them juggle it all.

 

They had other help, too. They met Jasper’s girlfriend, Maya, who was smart and kind and lovely. By phone, she would confer with Clarke, who was just finishing up her medical internship, and would call and check-in every other day. Bellamy liked to interject, too, wrestling the line away from Clarke and Maya so he could talk with Miller and Monty, fretting over them from far away. Raven, who wasn’t in the medical world, was equally valuable. Once David had to leave, she was a key person into helping bully insurance companies and doctors and nurses into telling her what they needed to know. Even Wells came down a couple times, charming everyone when Raven’s glares didn’t work.

 

Miller only met Hannah a couple times at Monty’s insistence, while she was still in the hospital. She was drowsy and confused due to all of the pain medications she was on, but she smiled warmly at Monty, and by the way he smiled back, Miller was hopeful for the future of their relationship.

 

As for Miller and Monty, _their_ relationship shifted yet again after that day in the hospital. In the weeks that followed, Miller didn’t stop himself from wearing short sleeves around Monty, liking the way Monty’s eyes roved over his arm every time he saw him (he also made sure he never skipped Arm Day at the gym anymore…) He and Monty were more physically affectionate in a way they hadn’t been before; they hugged more, and often; when they were out with their friends, they were never far from each other, sitting together so that their sides were always touching; and more and more Miller had to fight the urges not to lean over and kiss Monty senseless.

 

And he knew, he _knew_ that Monty was attracted to him, too. He was sure of it now in a way he hadn’t been previously. Besides showing his Mark, Miller learned what made Monty tic, and he exploited it shamelessly. Monty’s eyes would linger anytime Miller licked his lips, or drummed his fingers on a table, or even smirked.

 

Maybe it was stupid or selfish, doing what he was doing, but Miller couldn’t help himself. He felt like he was going crazy with wanting Monty, and he was so tired of holding himself back all the time. When Monty looked at him like that, it gave Miller hope for their future.

 

* * *

 

A rainy spring evening found Miller at a bar in Portland called The Dropship, feeling warm and happy, surrounded by his friends. Monty was tucked into his side, laughing at one of Jasper’s impression. Maya, on Jasper’s other side, was rolling her eyes fondly at her boyfriend, but she was grinning, too. Raven was on Miller’s other side, smirking to herself as she texted.

 

“I’m gonna grab more drinks,” Monty said. “Want anything?”

 

Jasper and Maya declined, and Raven looked up from her phone briefly to shake her head. Miller was just about done with his beer, so he asked Monty to get him another, rolling the sleeves of his henley up. Monty’s eyes darted to his forearms briefly before he left, and Raven snickered.

 

“Playing dirty, are we, Miller?” Raven muttered.

 

Miller rolled his eyes. Of course she would notice that. “Speaking of dirty,” he murmured. “Do you need to go get a room for yourself, so you can keep sexting Wells?”

 

Raven looked up, glaring at him. “For your information,” she said haughtily, “I don’t need to sext him. He’s in town, his flight just landed. We’re meeting up later tonight.”

 

Miller raised his eyebrows. “You finally going to take pity on the poor guy and make it official?”

 

Raven bit her lip. “I think so,” she said.

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Yeah,” Raven said. “We’re going to try and make it work. He knows I like it here, and work is sending him to the west coast more, so he’s going to try and get transferred.”

 

“I thought you said you wouldn’t do long distance no matter how much you liked him?”

 

“Yeah, I know,” Raven said with a rueful grin. “Never say never, though. And… he’s worth it.”

 

“Hey,” Miller said genuinely. “That’s awesome. I’m really happy for you guys.” He gave her a wry smile. “I’m going to miss having you as a roommate, though.”

 

Raven rolled her eyes. “That won’t be for a while,” she said. “And you can’t get me out of your life that easily, Miller. Besides, where would you be without me?”

 

“Definitely lost,” Miller said.

 

Turning his attention back to the table, Miller frowned when he saw both Jasper and Maya frowning at something. “Guys?” He asked. “What’s going on?”

 

“Uhh, nothing!” Maya said, dragging her gaze back to the table. “Nothing at all.”

 

“Nope, totally normal, everything is fine,” Jasper chirped and Miller rolled his eyes at them both, twisting around to look.

 

It was Monty, two beers in hand, looking happier than Miller had seen him in a while. He was laughing and smiling at a girl, who was, Miller could objectively say, very pretty. She had long, honey blonde hair she kept tossing over her shoulder as she smiled at whatever Monty was saying.

 

Miller felt his chest clench. His eyes flickered away and back again, jaw ticking, as he told himself to _calm down._

 

So what if a beautiful girl was flirting with Monty, and so what if he looked lit up like the sun under her attention, cold beers and Miller forgotten?

 

Monty could do whatever he liked; it didn’t matter how close they were becoming, it didn’t matter if Miller felt as though they were on the precipice of something amazing-- none of that mattered because at the end of the day, they weren’t truly _together._

 

He had forgotten that these past few months; he needed to remember again.

 

Feeling as though he’d been suckered punched in the gut, Miller twisted back around again, smoothing his face out. “He’ll be back eventually,” he said, trying to sound calm.

 

“Miller,” Raven said quietly.

 

Miller shook his head. “He can do what he wants,” he said roughly. “That’s always been true.”

 

Jasper wasn’t bothering to hide his disgust anymore. “What an idiot,” he muttered darkly, eyes flickering to Monty and back.

 

“Jasper,” Maya admonished gently. “He’s not doing anything wrong. They’re just talking.”

 

Raven snorted. “Blondie wants to do more than that,” she muttered, and Miller tried to hide his wince.

 

“Let’s just… let him be,” Miller said, shifting uneasily as he said the words. He cleared his throat. “I have some good news,” he said.

 

“Yeah?” Maya said excitedly, bless her. If Jasper didn’t marry her, Miller was going to make him. It was non-negotiable.

 

“Bellamy called yesterday,” he said. “Said he and Clarke are looking to move out here in the next year, now that Clarke’s finishing up her internship, and Bellamy’s finishing up his program. She’s looking at hospitals on the west cost to do her residency at, and he’s looking at schools.”

 

“That’s awesome,” Raven said. “Between the two of us, we’ll get everyone out here.” She and Miller high-fived. “Now you have to stay.”

 

Miller looked surprised. “You thought I was going to leave?”

 

Raven shrugged. “It was a possibility.” Miller was almost offended until he realized that in Raven’s life, so many people had left her already; it was partially why he was so proud of her for taking that next step with Wells, even if she was scared. She was one of the bravest people he knew.

 

Feeling so fond of his first friend in Portland, Miller swung his arm over Raven’s shoulders and squeezed her. “Leave you? Never, Reyes.”

 

It’s at that moment that Monty finally came back, the beers-- and the blonde-- with him. Under his arm, Raven tensed and Miller saw Maya put a hand on Jasper’s arm.

 

“Hey, guys,” Monty said, his smile flickering at the tense faces before him. “This is Harper. She and I actually just started working together, um, she’s new in town. Harper, um, this is Jasper, Maya, Raven, and Na-- um, Miller.”

 

“Hi,” Harper waved with a smile. “It’s nice to meet you all.”

 

Maya and Jasper politely reciprocated, while Miller and Raven just nodded. Raven’s hand found Miller’s knee under the table and squeezed, trying for subtle comfort.

 

Apparently she wasn’t subtle enough, because from his vantage point above them, Monty could see the movement, his eyes darting towards them, the muscles around his mouth tightening.

 

Another chair was procured for Harper, and Maya and Jasper scooted over to make room for her. Monty squeezed back into the bench next to Miller, whose arm was still around Raven.

 

Miller tried for normalcy, to recapture the light, joyful feeling from earlier in the night, but it was hard to do so. He wished that everyone else would stop being so awkward so he could brood without guilt, but they wouldn’t; even Maya was having difficulty carrying the conversation.

 

A part of Miller _did_ feel badly; Harper seemed perfectly nice, asking questions from all of them, and yeah, she was flirting with Monty quite a bit, but it’s not like he could blame her: Monty was cute. It was just tough to witness.

 

“So,” Harper said brightly to him, “how long have you two been together?”

 

Miller frowned. “What?”

 

Harper blinked. Her eyes went to Miller’s right arm, which was on the table, Mark visible, to his left, slung around Raven’s shoulders. “You and Raven?”

 

Raven started laughing. “Oh, no,” she said. “We’re not together. I’m not his Soulmate.”

 

“Uh, yeah,” Miller said, clearing his throat. “No, we’re just friends.”

 

“Oh,” Harper flushed. “I’m so sorry for assuming.”

 

“It’s okay,” Monty interjected. “They’re, um, close. Easy mistake.”

 

Miller’s jaw clenched. He got it; Monty didn’t want Harper to know he was Monty’s Soulmate. Crystal clear. But this bullshit? What was Monty playing at? Miller had no interest in Raven; _Monty_ was the bisexual one, not Miller.

 

Miller took his arm away from Raven to pull out his wallet. He put some money on the table, standing.

 

“You heading home?” Raven asked, looking up at him as he stretched.

 

“Yeah,” Miller said. “Say hi to Wells for me?”

 

Raven’s lips quirked up. “Yeah, will do,” she said. “See you later, Asshole.”

 

“Your pet names for me are adorable,” Miller deadpanned. He addressed the group, making sure his eyes didn’t linger on Monty or Harper. “Harper, nice to meet you. Everyone, I’ll see you later. Have a good one.”

 

He ignored Jasper and Maya’s concerned looks and scooted past Raven. He was outside, shrugging on his coat, about to call an Uber, when he heard his name. His first name.

 

“Nate, wait,” Monty said.

 

Miller composed himself for a moment before turning around. “What’s up, Monty?”

 

“I--” Monty’s eyebrows knitted together in uncertainty. “Are we okay?”

 

Miller let out a breath. “Yeah, of course,” he said. “We’re good. I’ll talk to you later?”

 

“Yeah,” Monty said, eyes searching Miller’s face. “I just--”

 

“Monty,” Miller said gently, feeling so tired all of the sudden. “Just-- go back inside, okay? Harper’s probably wondering where you are. I think she really likes you.”

 

Monty blinked, stepping back as though he was slapped. “What?”

 

Miller pinched the bridge of his nose, shutting his eyes. “Come on, man. It’s obvious she’s into you, and you’re into her. Just go back inside. Please.”

 

“No,” Monty said firmly.

 

Miller groaned. “Monty--”

 

“Nate, I’m not interested in Harper,” Monty said. “I’m sorry that it seemed that way. She’s really nice and we’re friends, but I’m not interested in her like that. I thought-- I thought you knew.”

 

“What I know,” Miller said sharply, “is that you and I are Soulmates.” Monty’s eyes widened; it was the first time Miller had explicitly brought that up since Monty laid down the rules of their friendship. “You and I are Soulmates who are nothing but platonic, something which you’ve made abundantly clear, over and over to me, for nearly a year now. And that’s fine. I accept that. But please don’t treat me like I’m an idiot. Harper is into you; I think you’re into her. If you need my blessing or whatever, you have it. Just _please_ let me go home now. Okay?”

 

“Nate,” Monty said desperately. “No, that’s not--” He broke off, looking away. He swallowed, his face twisting with emotion.

 

“Monty,” Miller sighed, stashing his phone. No Uber for now. “I’m sorry. Really.”

 

“No,” Monty shook his head vehemently. “This is my fault. All of it. From the very beginning.”

 

“This isn’t your fault at all,” Miller said. “It’s mine; we’ve all agreed.”

 

“I’ve been so hateful and awful,” Monty said. “And you haven’t deserved it at all. And you deserve to know the truth now. It’s taken me a while to-- to realize it, and admit it to myself, but you deserve to hear it.”

 

Miller didn’t think he wanted to hear the truth, but he loved Monty. He would hear him out, then he would go home, pass out, and pretend this whole thing never happened. “Okay.”

 

“The thing is,” Monty said, taking a deep breath, “I resented you for choosing Bryan. And I wanted to keep resenting you, to-- to hold you at bay, and to protect myself. I didn’t want to forgive you.”

 

Miller felt sick, his stomach tightening. He changed his mind; he didn’t want to hear this. “Monty--”

 

“I felt like no one was choosing me,” Monty continued, and Miller clenched his fists, knew that it was too late to leave, that he would stay and listen until the very end, no matter how much it hurt. “When my dad died and my mom became, well, her Other Self, I thought it was intentional, right? I thought that she was choosing to be miserable and mean, rather than try and heal with me. Her behavior seemed to me like being with my dad was more important than being with me, that without my dad alive her life didn’t matter... _I_ didn’t matter. And Jasper-- when Shae broke up with him, he became consumed with trying to win her back. My problems couldn’t be fixed, but his could, so his took precedent. I’m not saying he should’ve dropped everything for me, and now I know he was dealing with his own mental health problems, but-- it would’ve been nice, to know, at least _once_ , that he was choosing me. Hearing me.” He looked at Miller. “And then there was you.”

 

Miller closed his eyes. He couldn’t look at Monty. “And then there was me.”

 

To his shock, Monty slipped his hands in Miller’s and squeezed. Miller’s eyes flew open. “Monty?”

 

“Choosing Bryan wasn’t the easy thing to do,” Monty said, looking him in the eyes, ignoring his question. “Many people wouldn’t have done the same. I could hate you for it as your Soulmate, but otherwise… I admired it. You went against destiny or fate or whatever-- and you _chose_. You chose Bryan, and I was resentful and jealous that you made that decision so instantaneously. And I hated him, too, for throwing that choice away, for not understanding the magnitude of what you did for him, how much you loved him.”

 

Miller was over Bryan, had been over Bryan for a long time. He loved Monty in a way that overshadowed his love for Bryan, but-- it was like poking at an old injury. It didn’t hurt, but there was something still tender about it. And the way Monty was talking about it-- he _understood_ what Miller did in a way Bryan didn’t; he understood _Miller._

 

“So when you moved here, I didn’t think much of it. Or I tried not to. And then we kept running into each other and it felt inevitable, so I thought, _okay. We’ll just be casual friends._ I didn’t want to be a dick to you, but I also knew I couldn’t let you in. I couldn’t let another person in who wouldn’t choose me. But-- that’s the thing, isn’t it? This past year… you’ve been choosing me all along,” Monty was looking at Miller with awe that Miller didn’t think he deserved.

 

Miller shook his head. “I don’t think I should get that kind of credit,” he said. “I’ve just been trying to be a good friend to you.”

 

“Nate,” Monty laughed a little. “That’s-- we’re talking about the same thing.” He squeezed his hands again, and Miller jumped a little. He’d almost forgotten. “When my mom was in the hospital, you-- you dropped _everything_ to come be with me. You were supposed to have another week with your dad, but you changed your ticket and came back, without any hesitation. You called out Jasper for being a shitty friend. You chose to have me in your life as your friend, knowing that I said I never wanted to be more, rather than give me up completely. Not everyone would’ve chosen that, but you did.”

 

“That was--” Miller shook his head. “That was selfish on my part.”  

 

“Maybe,” Monty said, “but you could’ve, at any time, wanted out. And you still could! What about Harper?”

 

Miller gritted his teeth. “What _about_ Harper?” He asked.

 

In the face of Miller’s grumpiness, Monty-- the nerve of him!-- just grinned, smile bright. “She was hitting on me and you told me to go for it! Even though you knew it would bring you pain, you just wanted me to be happy. You chose my happiness over yours, and you’ve been doing so for months now. And you want to talk about selfishness? What about me? I’m pretty selfish.”

 

Miller frowned. “No, you’re not. You’re one of the most caring, selfless people I know.”

 

“Not when it comes to you,” Monty said softly. “Because I was so concerned about who chose me that I never thought about who chose you.”

 

Miller’s gut clenched again. “I-- it doesn’t matter.” And it didn’t, not really. Miller didn’t have the same hang-ups as Monty did: he had a father who loved him unconditionally; friends like Wells, Bellamy and Clarke who were moving to Portland (he was aware that they also wanted to be closer to their own loved ones, but he was also fairly confident that being closer to him was something that they had considered as well;) and new friends here, like Raven, and even Jasper and Maya. And he had Monty. It wasn’t in the way that he really wanted, but Monty was right: he’d rather have his friendship, have him in his life in _some_ capacity, than not have him there at all.

 

“But it does!” Monty insisted. “You deserve to be chosen, too. And I’ve realized something: you being happy is so important to me. I want _you_ to be happy.”

 

Miller couldn’t believe what Monty was saying. “But-- I don’t want you to feel like you have to do this. Monty, it’s fine. I’m fine.”

 

“I don’t want you fine,” Monty said firmly. “I want you happy.” His face softened a little. “Nate, don’t you understand what I’m trying to say?”

 

Miller swallowed. “I’m trying not to get my hopes up,” he said honestly.

 

Monty’s lips quirked. “Get them up,” he said. “Because what I’m trying to say is that while I forgave you a long time ago, I only just recently realized how much I adore you… how much I _love_ you. I forgave you and I’m working through my hang-ups because you’re worth it. I chose your friendship ages ago, but I’m choosing you-- all of you-- _now_. If… if you’ll still have me.”

 

“Yeah,” Miller said hoarsely, “I’ll have you. And no one else.” He tugged him closer, as he had wanted to for ages. Miller’s eyelashes were a little wet when they brushed across Monty’s cheekbones as he kissed him, and Monty gripped him a little too tightly, but they both let out a sigh as their lips met. _Finally._

 

Miller wanted to keep things light and gentle and tender, he really did, but he’d been wanting Monty for so long, and judging by Monty’s enthusiasm, he felt the same way.

 

“You coming home with me, baby?” Miller murmured, the endearment _finally_ coming out, his hands cupping Monty’s face and neck as he rained wet kisses on his cheeks and along his jaw.

 

“ _Yes,_ ” Monty gasped. “I’ll go wherever you want.”

 

Miller smirked and pulled away from the wall to call an Uber. The 20-minute drive to Miller’s apartment was probably the slowest one he remembered taking in the year since he moved to Oregon.

 

Neither Miller nor Monty said a word as they left the car and went into Miller’s building. At the door, though, Monty said, “Raven?”

 

Miller shook his head as he fumbled with his keys. “Wells is in town for work,” he said. “She’ll be with him tonight at his hotel-- taking advantage of the expensed room service, no doubt.”

 

“Among other things,” Monty smirked.

 

“Among other things,” Miller agreed, getting the door open. “Speaking of taking advantage--”

 

But Monty was one step ahead of him, already framing Miller’s face in his hands and kissing him. Miller pulled Monty closer by his hips, both groaning at the contact.

 

They hurriedly shed layers as they groped their way to Miller’s bedroom, and Miller fleetingly wished that it was summer, because if it was this wouldn’t be taking so long. Finally they were down to just their shirts and jeans, Miller smirking as he took off his shirt at Monty’s dumbfounded look. “Holy shit,” Monty said. “How are you even real?”

 

Miller stalked towards him, pressing a lingering kiss on the corner of Monty’s jaw. He got a wicked thrill out of stupefying Monty; it certainly wasn’t easy. “I’m real,” he murmured lowly, “and I’m yours.” They kissed for a while more, slow and wet, and then Miller broke it, his lips still brushing against Monty’s as he murmured, “Your turn.”

 

Monty pulled back, almost embarrassed, but Miller licked his lips as he watched Monty take off his shirt.

 

Monty caught the movement and gave him a wry, deprecating smile. “I highly doubt I’m that impressive,” he said.

 

“I wouldn’t sell yourself so short,” Miller said, his eyes roving over Monty’s torso. There wasn’t a whole lot of definition, but Miller bet that Monty wouldn’t need to put in much work to make it so. Not that Miller cared; he had been attracted to Monty for ages, and he wasn’t disappointed in the least about what was in front of him.

 

“Ahh,” Monty said. “You’re looking for my Mark.”

 

Miller flashed him a sheepish grin. “That, too,” he said, but he reached out, his hands tracing Monty’s shoulders and his arms, fingertips brushing down his chest. Monty shuddered. “But I’m not in a rush.”

 

Monty undid his belt and looked at Miller through his fringe in a move that Miller thought was unfairly sexy. “You’ve been waiting long enough,” he said lightly, pulling his boxers down with his pants, and Miller’s mouth went dry.

 

He had been right, all those years ago, when he had speculated where Monty’s Mark (non-existent until he met him, but still,) may have been. “Just like Rilke,” Miller murmured. He gently pushed Monty so he fell against the bed, and Miller kneeled in front of him, pushing his thighs open.

 

Miller reached out and touched the emerald lines that curved around Monty’s hips and pelvis, leaves and vines and plants, constructed out of tiny words, all leading down towards, “That dark center where procreation flared,” Miller murmured, mouth watering.

 

“Wh-what?” Monty murmured, almost bewildered at the dark, hungry look in Miller’s eyes.

 

“It’s Rilke,” Miller said, leaning closer. “From a poem: _Archaic Torso of Apollo_.” He loved the way Monty quivered under his touch.

 

“Apollo?” Monty gave a shaky laugh. “Me? Well, you’ve uh-- you’ve got the wrong guy.”

 

“Do I?” Miller raised an eyebrow at him, his fingers tracing along Monty’s thighs and his Mark, circling closer and closer to his cock. “Apollo was the god of light-- of knowledge and medicine and music. Sounds like you to me.”

 

“Knowledge and medicine, maybe,” Monty breathed, “but music? I’m not musical.”

 

“You sure, baby?” Miller purred, blowing on him, a challenging gleam in his eyes. “I bet I can make you sing.” And with those words he took Monty into his mouth and fought the urge to grin as Monty gasped.

 

“You’re evil,” Monty groaned, hands grasping at the bed sheets. “You’re-- who’s the evil god? Whoever--whoever that is, that’s you.”

 

Miller took him out of his mouth and gave Monty an innocent look, but gave him a long lick, root to tip, that had Monty tipping his head back again. “You sure?” He said. “I think I’m the god of pleasure.”

 

“Get up here,” Monty gasped. “Get up here before you kill me.”

 

Reluctantly, Miller obeyed, and together he and Monty got him naked as well. Miller couldn’t help let out a groan when Monty touched him.

 

Monty grinned, and Miller couldn’t even find it in him to scowl. He was too cute. “If I remember right,” Monty said, stroking him slowly, “Apollo was a pretty good lover. Let’s see if I can live up to it.”

 

“I’m not worried,” Miller said, his eyes fluttering closed as Monty nipped and kissed and licked his way down Miller’s neck, along his collarbone before dipping down to his chest and torso.

 

“Good,” Monty said, the confidence in his voice sending a thrill down Miller’s spine, making him shudder, “I’m not either.”

 

Miller looked down to find Monty staring back at him, dark eyes serious. “C’mere,” Miller rasped, erection be damned, and Monty slid back up. Miller framed Monty’s face in his hands, his pinky on Monty’s pulse point. “Hey,” he said. “I love you.”

 

The brightness of Monty’s smile had Miller half-convinced he really _was_ the god of light. “Hey,” he said back. “I love you, too.”

 

They kissed again, softly, tenderly, for a long time before finally, the heat returned, and they were grinding against each other, unable to get as close as they wanted, until Miller finally threw one arm toward his nightstand and fished around for the bottle of lube, getting them slick enough so he could stroke them together with his long fingers.

 

“Oh, shit,” Monty whined, thrusting his hips at Miller. Miller mimicked him and Monty wrapped an arm around Miller’s hip, grasping his ass and tugging him closer.

 

“C’mon,” Miller murmured against Monty’s lips. “Come with me, baby.”

 

“Yes,” Monty hissed, pumping his hips. “ _Fuck_.”

 

Their hips in-sync, they finished together. They lay there for a moment in the afterglow, gasping and kissing, until Miller, hand sticky, rolled away and went into the bathroom for a moment, coming back out with a warm, damp wash cloth for Monty to clean-up. When they were dressed again, Monty grinning in Miller’s borrowed sweats and t-shirt, absolutely loving how they smelt like Miller, and Miller grinning because Monty was happy, they lay in bed facing each other.

 

“Let’s not do anything tomorrow,” Monty sighed, pressing another kiss at the corner of Miller’s mouth. “Let’s just stay here.”

 

“Sounds good to me,” Miller said, dark eyes smiling into Monty’s.  

 

They lay in there in the dark for a little bit, content not to say anything or do anything, just to be, when Monty piped up. “Hey, Nate?” He asked. “Do you think… do you think without the Soulmates thing, we still would’ve ended up here?”

 

Miller frowned. “Do you mean, if we weren’t Soulmates, or…?”

 

“You know,” Monty said, “like those TV shows and movies, where there are worlds without Soulmates. Where people fall in love and they never know if they’re meant to be.”

 

Miller was quiet for a moment. “I think so,” he said slowly. “I mean-- think about it. If how we met and what happened after was the same, I feel like we might’ve even gotten here sooner.”

 

Monty cocked his head. “What do you mean?”

 

“Think about it,” Miller said. “Remember how we met? You ran into Bellamy and me at that bar. I was attracted to you the second I saw you. I probably still would’ve been with Bryan, but he and I would’ve broken up, sooner or later, I know that now. And I would’ve moved to Oregon and run into you and-- we wouldn’t have had that Soulmates baggage. We just would’ve been two people.”

 

“But when we met in Oregon, you weren’t over Bryan,” Monty said softly.

 

“I wasn’t,” Miller agreed, “but we would’ve been friends sooner because you wouldn’t have been-- you wouldn’t have been afraid of me. Of us.”

 

Monty nods. “True,” he said. “So what you’re saying is that we’re inevitable.”

 

“What I’m saying is,” Miller said, taking Monty’s face into his hands, “is that even in a world without Soulmates we would’ve found each other. That-- take that part of out of the equation, and you still have us. In every universe, we would still work hard to make each other happy. We would still have shit to deal with and insecurities and fears to work through. But in every universe, we would have each other. We would love each other. Okay?”

 

“Okay,” Monty grinned and Miller grinned back. He thought about the Soulmates who did work out romantically-- he and Monty, Bellamy and Clarke-- and he thought about the ones who didn’t: Raven and Finn, Jasper and Shae, Wells and his soulmate, Niylah, even Maya and her Soulmate, Atom. But they all found each other, worked for their happy endings. What Monty had said so long ago still was true: Soulmates aren’t a guarantee for happiness. It helped, but it wasn’t an end-all, be-all.

 

Even if Monty was his Soulmate, Miller understood how lucky he was. They almost never got here, and he wouldn’t ever take that for granted. You made your own happiness, your own path, and Miller couldn’t believe that he would be able to walk his with Monty by his side.

 

“I’m sleepy,” Miller murmured, “but I don’t want to sleep yet.” He didn’t want to miss a single moment with Monty, but he also had this irrational thought that what if he woke up and this had all been a dream?

 

Monty smiled indulgently at him. He understood. “Go to sleep,” he urged. “I’ll be here in the morning.”

 

So twined around Monty, Miller slept-- without fear, secure in the promise of the next morning and all of the mornings thereafter.  


End file.
